HP fic 'Deeper' AR
by Deathcomes4u
Summary: Angst and violence. Explores the darker road in which Umbridge doesn't hold back. Page breaks may not appear, plz excuse if its confusing in parts. Hugely long.
1. Chapter 1

_Okay, i can't remember when i first started writing this story, and i can't believe i never dated the hard copy front page like i made a habit of, but i CAN tell you the hard copy is all written by hand on laser paper in a stack that is 3.7cm thick, thats about 1&1/4 inches. (and of the hard copy i have so far typed up 2.5 cm's worth) By far the longest fic i have ever written, and ive been writting HP fics since i was about 14, which makes 5 years now. I believe i concieved this one from page 658 where Umbridge intends to but doesn't get to use the cruciatus on Harry. I draw on canon events to try and make this seem more realisticaly close to JK's style... except she would hold this stuff back because of young readers im sure. The werewolf theme has run through all my HP fics for a long time. It is standard for Harry to have lycanthropy in all my fics, just for the sheer angst factor. _

_Now, to all new readers, i warn you this gets quite gory and dark, so if you're into fluff, and hate to see Harry hurt, turn back now. However, to all you angst whores like me out there, dig in, this one's for you._

_And i also ask, because it has been said to me on Deviant art where this is also posted, that the level of physical harm done to Harry is not surviveable. This is where you must remember, it is a fictional magical world. Normal world rules and physics aren't the same, and a lot more harm can be endured with the aid of healing potions. So keeping an open mind, please read on and engrain yourself in the dark and insane world of an Umbridge gone mad and a Harry who will make your stomach churn with nobility XD_

_yours trully Death_

* * *

**A.R.-**_**The Centaur and the Sneak**_- **Down the other Road:**Chapter 1 

…Extract…

'The stairs!' cried Dawlish, and he flung himself upon the door, wrenched it open and disappeared, closely followed by Kingsley.

Umbridge stood up, reddening in anger as Fudge likewise straightened up, brushing dust from his front. There was a long and painful silence as Harry felt Umbridge's mean eyes on him, but he was looking anywhere but at her.

"Well Minerva," said Fudge nastily, straightening his torn shirt sleeve, " I'm afraid this is the end of your friend Dumbledor."

"You think so, do you?" said professor McGonagall scornfully. Fudge seemed not to hear her. He was looking around at the wrecked office. A few of the portraits hissed at him; one or two even made rude hand gestures.

'You'd better get those two off to bed,' said Fudge, looking back at professor Mcgonagall with a dismissive nod towards Harry and Marietta.

'Just a moment minister,' Umbridge cut in, 'I would like a word or two with Mr. Potter.' She said sweetly, still looking flustered and angry, not taking her eyes off Harry, who was still deliberately avoiding them.

Fudge blinked stupidly a few times before answering curtly. 'Yes, of course Dolores. Minerva, you need only escort Miss Edgecomb.' Fudge said bluntly to McGonagall.

Looking quite offended at being told she need not take Harry back to Gryffindor tower, she marched Marietta reluctantly from the office.

Harry felt somewhat apprehensive, if not a little vulnerable, being now alone among his enemies.

'Sit, Potter, I shall deal with you in a moment.' Said Umbridge, her voice sickly and quiet, though it had a nasty edge to it as she grasped his upper arm firmly and steered him forcefully into a chair that had not been upturned.

Harry turned his gaze back to the carpet, listening intently to Umbridge and Fudge as they spoke.

'You know of course that you shall have to be appointed immediately to the position of headmaster Dolores. This place desperately needs the sort of discipline only you can achieve to pull it back into line. Frankly all this nonsense Dumbledor was carrying on with had to be ended before the whole place fell to pieces. Well, I might as well sign the decrees while I'm here.' Said Fudge, his pompous air firmly back in place. 'Oh you do flatter me Cornelius. Here, allow me…' she waved her short wand and returned the upturned desk to its usual place, spilt ink bottles and parchment all neatly positioned as they had been, for the exception that the ink could not be returned from all over the floor to the bottle.

Harry looked up and around at the still disgruntled occupants of the portraits all around the room, while Fudge and Umbridge tittered about decrees and new 'improvements' that would have to be made. But Harry did not want to listen because it made his insides writhe with anger.

After about twenty minutes, Fudge got up and left Harry and Umbridge.

Finally, Harry looked up into Umbridge's face. She wore a nasty smile, and Harry saw she was going to enjoy whatever it was she had in store for him.

'Come with me, Mr. Potter.' She said girlishly with some enthusiasm, as though excited about something.

Something was telling Harry this was not going to mean anything good for him, but he had no choice but to follow her out of the office.

As they walked down towards the entrance hall, alarm bells were going off inside Harry's head, for what reason, he could not tell, and it seemed suddenly to him as though he were a prisoner being taken along death row.

But Harry tried to reason with himself. Even though it was partly his fault Dumbledor had been evicted, Dumbledor had defended him well enough to make them think he had done nothing serious enough to warrant a severe punishment, surely? What was the worst possible thing Umbridge could do now? Make him write lines with the blood quill again? Harry's hand twitched at the thought, but he was not afraid, he could handle it, just remembering the cruciatus and comparing it made it more bearable.

Umbridge was now leading him across the entrance hall toward the dungeon entrance. Harry's foreboding increased with a painful churn of his stomach each step he took down the stairs.

Umbridge led him deep into the corridors, far past the classrooms and down two more flights of steps.

She had to remove a torch from it's bracket to light the way down an old, damp corridor that seemed like it had been un-used for at least a decade.

Harry was guessing from what he knew of the labyrinth like dungeons that they were somewhere between and below the level of the Slytherin and Hufflepuff common rooms…deeper far than either into the castle's bowels…

Suddenly, they stopped. Umbridge fumbled with a set of old iron keys and stuck one in a hole in the wall, which turned out to be the lock of a door so old and grey that it was barely distinguishable from the cold stone walls.

They entered…

When Umbridge lit the old metal torches around the walls, Harry found that the room illuminated was not so un-used, it would seem, or, more to the point, someone had obviously come here often, as the instruments in there looked quite well tended and prepared for their next victim. Harry's stomach dissolved to see the chains and manacles around the room, not to mention a whole wall of the large chamber devoted to and lined with whips and cruel metal instruments that glinted clean and lethal at him in the torchlight. Harry felt the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. The room seemed to emanate with the fond memory of the pain of its old victims…

Suddenly, the door was slammed shut, and Harry whipped around to see Filch, standing next to Umbridge, stooped and crooked, wearing a nasty grin with a mad glint in his eyes.

'Now then, Mr. Potter... Your wand, please, and don't even think about trying anything, there's no use and no need, just give it up now, quietly…' Umbridge simpered with that sinister edge to her voice again. Harry's mind raced with a thousand thoughts of resistance or escape plans, all useless, flawed, risky, daring, but Harry felt an awful dread of giving up his wand. He had, however, taken it automatically from his pocket while his brain reeled with anxiety and conspiracies, and it was suddenly snatched out of his hand by Umbridge, wiping his mind clear of all possibility of escape.

It was too late now; he had let himself get cornered.

* * *

Harry's voice echoed slightly in the chamber, creating a pleasant resonance as he sung to himself.

He was so bored by now that he had just decided he'd try and amuse himself by singing any song that came to mind, making up words if he forgot them, and hoping, rather than knowing that he didn't sound too bad. He could not tell exactly if he was any good, he was no expert, but he was somewhat confident his pitch was right…

'…To the bottle I go, to heal my heart and drown my woe, ho-ho-ho-o!…To the bottle I go-o, to heal my heart and drown my woe,

_Rain may fall and wind may blow,_

_And I be made to suffer so…_

_Ho-ho-ho-o!_

_But under a tall tree I imagine I lie,_

_And maybe the pain will pass me by…_

_Ho-ho-ho-o!_

The door burst open and Harry fell silent.

'What on earth are you doing Mr. Potter?' came Umbridge's cold, girly voice.

'Singing. Not a law against that too now is there?' croaked Harry.

'There could be, if you get smart with me boy. Now, lets see if you're ready to tell the truth today.' She said pleasantly, as though asking if he took one lump or two in his tea.

'I've been ready everyday, and I've told you everyday. The question is are _you_ ready to _believe_ me today.' Harry said, not bothering to hide the cynicism in his voice.

Umbridge's face became squashy and mean in her impatience and anger. She nodded over Harry's shoulder to Filch, her black velvet bow quivering dangerously in her hair.

Harry knew he would pay dearly for this insolence. He would not have cared so much if he had known how much longer he had to endure this…but even if he never told them…even if he would not break mentally, he was unsure of how long it would be until he was pushed past his physical limits…

* * *

Harry hung limply in the manacles, too weak and broken to support his own meager weight on his feet. His voice too sore now, even to amuse himself with singing.

He had no idea what time it was, whether it was day or night, he had no windows to tell, being locked in this dark expansive dungeon room deep under the rest of the school…they had no idea…

He was chained, suspended from the roof by Filch's manacles, which cut excruciatingly into his wrists.

But he knew Umbridge would come soon, even without a way to tell the time, he knew.

And sure enough, the door suddenly creaked open, and with a jolt of dread and slight fear Harry heard her sinisterly sweet voice float into the room.

'Well then, are we ready to be _persuaded _to tell the truth _today, _Mr. Potter?'

_No, Mr. Potter is not ready to tell you the truth, _Harry thought savagely,

Mr. Potter doesn't care how much you torture him he'll never tell you where they are…

He heard Filch shuffling into the room behind him, but his back was to the door. Only Umbridge came around to face him. Which meant Filch was remaining behind him, ready with the whip.

Harry's head was leant on his chest. It felt heavy and ached.

Cold, stubby fingers grasped him by the hair sharply and pulled his head back painfully; bringing him to focus on the flabby, toady face of Umbridge.

'I said,' she narrowed her watery eyes maliciously, 'are you ready to tell us the truth, Mr. Potter, or must we continue to teach you the price you pay for lies?' She said honily, a definite note of anticipation in her voice.

Harry, his eyes screwed up against the pain of the hairs she was pulling from his scalp, opened his dry mouth.

'I already told you the truth.' He croaked. She threw his head from her grasp, causing more pain to rent through Harry's consciousness.

She took a few steps back.

'Very well then, Potter. You leave me no choice.' she said, losing the girly chime in her voice. She nodded over Harry's shoulder.

He heard Filch give a soft, wheezy chuckle.

_**CRACK!**_

Harry cried out in agony.

Umbridge smiled indulgently, letting the pain sink in before she signaled the next strike.

_**CRACK!**_

This time Harry made no sound, too winded to do so. The pain was unbearable.

_**CRACK!**_

Harry gasped desperately for breath. He felt the blood trickle down his back.

_**CRACK!**_

It did not stop until the whip had been laid on him ten times.

Harry hung limp, panting and shaking.

'I will ask you again Potter, and if you lie, you will feel pain like never before. Consider carefully before you lie again. Now, Mr. Potter. Where are Sirius Black and Albus Dumbledor?' Umbridge growled calmly, sounding very much like a cat slowly and contentedly devouring its mouse prey…

The flaming defiance burning in Harry overcame any fear of being caused more pain.

He slowly raised his head.

'I…don't…know.' He panted in almost a whisper.

Umbridge's broad face sneered impatiently at him. 'We shall see. I have _never_ failed to persuade someone to _my_ will, Mr. Potter.'

'First time for everything.' Harry sneered goadingly, his fierce spark of defiance satisfied to watch her rage, refusing to let the lash he received for his insolence deter him. He screamed out at the agony, was dizzied by the thought of how much blood he felt flowing from his wounds, which even trickled down to the floor as it stained his trousers, creating a small red pool upon the floor at his feet.

After another round of lashes…Harry thought he heard a strange yet familiar noise…

He looked down to his left, and saw a sight to sicken him…

There was Mrs. Norris, Filch's cat, purring loudly as she lapped at the pool of his blood…the red of it all over her mouth and whiskers…

Harry would have kicked her had he the strength.

Harry lost count of how many times Umbridge asked him the same question, how many times she slapped his face, used the cruciatus on him, lashed him, until he fell into semi-darkness.

By the time Umbridge left with Filch (and the blood whiskered Mrs. Norris), he was dizzy and disorientated beyond his wits.

Yet he did not despair. He would suffer any end to keep Sirius safe.

_Mind you_ (he thought to himself)_, I couldn't tell Umbridge even if I wanted. Dumbledor is Order secret keeper…_

With the comfort of Sirius' safety Harry let himself be lost in darkness, shutting out the pain.

* * *

The door opened quickly and Harry forced himself to be more alert as to what was happening. He heard Umbridge, but as well as Filch's shuffling footsteps and Mrs. Norris' meows, there was another…

'…Yes, Severus, if you are sure you can tell. You see? How insolent he is as to force me to such treatment? The whelp brings it upon himself.'

She was saying in a false, sweet voice, like some sort of murderer with pigtails.

'Yes, headmistress. His stubbornness even I cannot comprehend sometimes, but I assure you I will be able to tell the moment he is lying to me.' Said Snape silkily.

Harry lifted his head groggily and stared morosely into the shinning black eyes that bored into his own out of the hooked nose, sallow skinned face of Snape.

Umbridge glared at Harry and jabbed her wand in his throat, considering him, before she stepped back

' I think a slight warm up, just to persuade him a little more first, Severus.' She said sweetly.

She nodded to filch.

_**CRACK!**_

Harry cried out and Snape almost flinched, the only sign of emotion a slight narrowing of his eyes…

_**CRACK!**_

As usual, the whip lashed him ten times.

Harry shook uncontrollably, his eyes half closed, but he raised his head again to see Snape's eyes now glittering in a strange way.

'There you are Severus. Now, let's see if he can stand to lie now.' Said Umbridge much more crisply than usual, as though smugly satisfied with beating Harry up.

Snape slowly stepped forward. He placed his wand under Harry's chin and forced him to lift his head further.

Snape squinted at him, his gaze intense, but not with malice…

'Potter. _Where _are Sirius Black and Albus Dumbledor?' he asked softly, a strange edge to his voice as he seemed to put a delicate stress on every word.

Harry did not even blink; he did not break eye contact with Snape.

'I have no idea.' He croaked pitifully.

Snape continued to look into his eyes as Harry sent him a silent request for help, praying that his occlumency skill might be good enough to detect it.

Snape blinked, quite pronouncedly…

He had acknowledged Harry's plead. 

He then turned away and removed his wand from Harry's throat. Harry let his heavy, aching head fall onto his chest.

'He is telling the truth, headmistress. I'm afraid to say, he does not know the whereabouts of either Black or Dumbledor. No doubt _they_ were both smart enough not to trust such information to one as weak as Potter.' Snape said smoothly.

Umbridge wore a very nasty expression indeed, but quickly calmed herself, replacing the ugly look on her face for an even uglier forced smile at Snape, who stared blankly back. 'Very well then. I shall not question him further. No…but I _do_ have a use for him…in fact, we might as well get on with it immediately…'

'The students are at lunch. I shall call for attention and attendance of all students and staff promptly in the Great hall. You shall help Argus, professor, to take Potter to the great hall. Then I will set an example, with Mr. Potter's aid, which should dissuade any further out-of-line behaviour from the students…'

And a nasty, real smile spread across her broad flabby face.

Harry shook with anger. She could never miss an opportunity to torture him. But this was a chance for him, to show the school defiance against her. He didn't care about the pain anymore; he could will it all away if only to show he would not submit, to defy her.

Harry was released from Filch's manacles and Snape held him up, as he could not support himself. Together, Filch and Snape half dragged Harry between them, Mrs. Norris escorting them trotting jauntily ahead. Harry, disorientated with pain, attempted to force his legs to work. After coming out of the cold, deeper corridors and back into the familiar classroom corridors, they steered him into a dungeon near the main stairs. He sat heavily on a chair as they waited for Umbridge to call them to the hall. The slashes on Harry's back had already healed mostly, as the whip was charmed, like Umbridges quill, thought they stung just the same as if they were still open wounds.

He realized mutely that he would be pulled up before the school wearing only his blood stained uniform trousers, and found he did not care very much.

As he sat, he shot a glance up at Snape, who met his gaze momentarily, acknowledging Harry's silent thanks for releasing him from the dungeon punishment.

When Umbridge came and got them, wearing a very smug smile, Snape and Filch each grasped one of Harry's arms and once again half dragged him up the stairs and towards the great hall.

The reason his legs would not support him was that Umbridge had whipped them too…but with an ordinary whip. And the wounds were recent and still quite fresh, and consequently, trying to use them caused debilitating pain to shoot through them with every step he took.

It seemed, however, that Filch would be using the ordinary whip again…

As Harry stumbled into the hall dragged by Filch and Snape, a complete silence fell instantaneously across the hall.

Harry was stopped in front of the middle of the high table, where the teachers stared at him, horrified.

He stood on his feet, legs shaking madly, but he would not give in to the pain, and he stood as straight as he could, a clearly defiant air about him.

Every student was staring at him; expressions of mixed shock, horror and fear on their faces, except for the Slytherins, most of whom looked quite excited and eager.

Harry did not notice Umbridge had been speaking, until she turned to him.

'…And now you will see what happens to liars and nasty, rule breaking hooligans in _my_ school, wont we Mr. Potter?' she said, her voice honeyed once more.

Harry's eyes narrowed, he filled his dry mouth and spat at her feet. There was a collective gasp across the hall. Harry sneered at Umbridge's furious face.

'I s'pose we will.' He croaked matter-of-factly.

His eyes darted toward the Gryffindor table. He saw Ron, a look of pure terrified horror on his face, mixed however with pride. And Hermione, tears leaking unchecked down her face, devastated.

Umbridge had taken Filch's place, her grip extremely tight on his arm.

_**CRACK!**_

Harry clenched his teeth, not letting a sound escape him.

_**CRACK!**_

He screwed his eyes up tighter, still forcing himself to remain standing.

_**CRACK!**_

He coughed, gasped, and tried harder to keep his legs still. He could hear someone sobbing. There was a long pause before Filch continued, and just as Harry as getting over the sting of the first three lashes…

_**CRACK, CRACK, CRACK, **_across his legs.

The whip had been laid across them in quick succession, in triplicate, and a pain more excruciating than ever racked his body. He cried out, falling to his knees.

Umbridge and Snape still had a firm hold on his upper arms, though both hung heavy and limp, forgotten by Harry completely in his agony. Blood still trickling from his wrists where the manacles had cut into them…

_**CRACK, CRACK, CRACK, **_along his back this time.

Harry could not help but scream out again, his voice breaking terribly. Blood was trickling steadily down his back. A fantasy of Mrs. Norris jumping on him to lick it off and getting whipped in the process crossed Harry's mind, and his mouth flickered with an insane smile.

He could hear a few whimpers across the hall now.

And then he heard Umbridge call for Filch to stop.

Harry's body shook violently with pain, his head swimming drunkenly with it.

Then he felt Umbridge grasp his hair and his arms were released, so that he was only being held up, in agony, by the hair she had grasped at the back of his head, which she bent back.

'Perhaps you have learnt your lesson now, Potter?' she asked sweetly.

Harry, panting, opened his eyes and stared at her piercingly. In the complete silence, his broken voice carried clearly.

'What lesson?,' he panted in mock politeness, ' all I can say I've learnt…from you…is that…you seemed not to have noticed…how much…you look like a toad…professor.' Harry commented lightly, a mad smile playing on his face to watch her face contort with fury.

A buzz of gasps and exclamations swept the hall.

Umbridge, a sour look on her face, kicked out swiftly and caught Harry a sharp blow in the chest…and you better believe, she wore steel toed boots…

Harry doubled over, winded, blood trickling from his mouth as he coughed and gasped for air. 'I'll teach you a lesson, boy!' she hissed madly so that only Harry could hear.

Then McGonagall's voice rang through the still buzzing hall. 'Headmistress, please! He is delirious from this, let him go…' she said, her voice wavering uncontrollably.

'No, Minerva! He knows perfectly well what he's saying. He _must _be taught that this will not be tolerated under _any _circumstances by me.' And she whipped out her wand.

She got Filch to hold Harry by the hair again and she stood back.

'Nasty liars are taught nasty lessons, Potter.' She simpered.

And Harry, unexpectedly, even by himself, laughed. And his laughter, hard, cold and defiant, silenced the hall.

'Who's lying here? It'll be too late for you and dear Fudge when the truth gets out. I'd never thought before now that I would meet anyone who deserved all they got from Voldemort, until you came along…'

"_CRUCIO!"_ Umbridge screeched.

Harry let out a blood-curdling scream as the curse sent a fire of agony through him. She kept cursing him until his voice died, until he gasped for breath, twitching involuntarily, and suddenly, just before he blacked out, she lifted the curse.

And she looked around at the one who had called out to stop.

Harry, his head still pulled up excruciatingly by Filch, forced his streaming, unfocused eyes open.

Justin Finch-Fletchley was standing, at the Hufflepuff table, all eyes in the hall on him.

He was looking at Harry, a horrified expression on his face.

'Why, might I ask, do you wish me to stop Mr. Fletchley?' sang Umbridge in a sickeningly sweet tone.

Panting, Justin swallowed, but he looked determinedly at Harry as he spoke.

'Professor…even if he is lying…if you-know-who hasn't returned…well…it makes no difference if you can torture us like some death-eater!' he said loudly, and though he stammered he sounded defiant.

There were a few murmurs across the hall, and Umbridge narrowed her eyes, smiling.

Justin was shaking, but he stared at her determinedly.

'There is a fine line, Mr. Fletchley, between torture and discipline. Mr. Potter's acts call for punishment to discipline him. Death-eaters would do this for fun, without reason, they are people who enjoy seeing pain. I, do not…'

At this point Harry chuckled croakily, cutting Umbridge off,

'You seemed to enjoy yourself enough down in that dungeon room.' Harry interjected bitterly.

Umbridge did not turn around or answer him, though her false smile flickered for a moment.

'As I was saying…I enjoy seeing _learning_ and knowing I am teaching you _valuable_ lessons. I think, Mr. Fletchley, that Mr. Potter has led you astray. You will be taught. Detention, Monday, at six o'clock. It is important you all be taught right from wrong. Sit down, Mr. Fletchley, while I sink the _right_ message into Potter, a last time.' Her sweet tone made Harry feel sick.

She grasped his hair fiercely again, nodding to Filch, who stepped back. Harry gazed across the hall, seeing every fearful face on him.

He then gazed up at Umbridge, her toady face grinning maliciously, and he decided some last words were appropriate…

'By the way, Professor…there's something I forgot to mention…' he croaked painfully, his voice calm.

Umbridge looked down at him, eyebrows knitting in slight confusion.

And Harry lifted his shaking arms, and stuck both his rude fingers up at her, a mad grin spreading over his face again, his eyes glinting with cold satisfaction to the cheering that broke out at the Gryffindor table and the way her face contorted in rage once more.

And then she gave the signal, and the whip cracked. Ten times, in quick succession, hitting with cruel accuracy down his back, cutting deeper than ever…and an eerie silence fell instantaneously over the hall and the Gryffindors. The pain was so intense, he could make no sound, his back arched inward automatically from the agony, but Umbridge pulled his head further back by the hair and he was forced to endure.

When the whip was still, Umbridge released him. He fell silently, into a crumpled heap he collapsed onto the floor, his blood steadily staining the cold stone…though Filch would not let Mrs. Norris near it…

He shook violently, uncontrollably twitching from the pain, so intense still it paralyzed him.

'Mr. Weasley, miss Granger, yes, miss Weasley too if you wish… take him back to your dormitory. He is _not_ to be treated in the hospital wing. If he is to be treated, it is by himself. You may help, if you wish.' Umbridge sneered as Ron, Hermione and Ginny rushed to Harry's side.

They managed to drag him to his feet together and between them he was not heavy to support out of the hall, though there was little Ginny could do to help, except perhaps shield Harry further from the Hufflepuffs some of which had been sick at the sight of his injuries. Harry, consumed by pain, was barely aware of anything else that happened to him as Ron and Hermione dragged him up the flights, through the castle, towards Gryffindor tower.

He tried as hard as his body would permit him to assist in getting himself through the portrait hole, but his energy was drained by lack of food and excruciating pain.

The other three managed him up to his and Ron's dormitory where they lay him gently on his bed.

Unable to stand the pain, he did not move, and breathing heavily, raggedly, he barely registered Ron's words.

'Harry, can you hear me?' he said anxiously. Harry nodded weakly, 'Ron…' he croaked in reply. He opened his unfocused eyes to try and see the face of the friend he had missed for how long he was unsure. '…Thank you.' He whispered, voice rasping painfully from screams.

Ron looked quite distressed. 'Oh god, what did she do to you?' he said in a voice of despair before naming her a number of profanities. Harry could not speak to tell him because his throat was so sore.

Ginny seemed to know this, because suddenly she helped him lift his head and she tipped a glass of water from his bedside jug, down his throat.

Harry drunk deeply and gratefully. He thanked her and focused back on Ron.

'She tortured me for information, (he gave a small bark of laughter), and got none. Waste of time and blood really. I couldn't tell her where Sirius and Dumbledor are of course, not that I would. And I lied till I was whipped raw about there being no D.A., though she called it my 'unlawful resistance'. And she couldn't force me to say I was lying about Voldemort to her, not under the Imperius or anything. She even tried veritaserum, but Snape must have known. He gave her some dud potion that just made me drowsy and I acted like the potion had worked and lied to her again.'

'Of course she didn't let that spoil the fun she had torturing me some more.' Harry said airily, thought there was a definite note of bitterness in his hoarse voice.

This all seemed to greatly disturb Ron and Ginny.

'Oh god Harry, you suffered all that for a secret you couldn't break anyway and so she would do in the rest of the D.A?…You…you didn't tell her anything…even through three weeks of…oh Christ…I, I couldn't have done that." He said weakly, looking ashamed of himself.

"You should never have to.' Harry said forcefully, his voice cracking and the haunted shadow in his eyes becoming more pronounced. Ron looked at him anxiously, not knowing how anyone could suffer so much and still keep living on with it, acting so…normally, as Harry did…not turning out like Neville's parents like he was sure he would.

Harry's back was not, as he would hope, aching less, but instead the stinging seemed to intensify the longer he lay there, blood soaking onto his sheets, making him feel slightly queasy.

'Are you alright Harry? You're really pale.' Said Ginny softly in concern.

'Of course he isn't alright, Ginny, he's just been tortured.' Ron said flatly. He put a hand on Harry's shivering, blood marked shoulder. It was ice cold.

Harry tensed automatically at Ron's touch. Three solid weeks of torture will have that effect…when the only time anyone touched him was to cause him pain.

Ron got up from his chair by Harry's bed and whipped a sheet off his own, which he draped over Harry's shivering form. Harry looked up at him, slightly startled.

'Thanks.' He croaked weakly. 'Where's Hermione?' Ginny asked suddenly.

Ron shrugged. 'She said something about making up a potion.'

They sat in silence for a long time, Harry with his eyes closed, trying to will away the agony that plagued his body.

The dormitory door suddenly opened and Hermione came in, her arms laden with strange items. She was flushed, and looked very anxious when she saw the amount of blood that had soaked Harry's sheets.

Ron gave her his seat and she began bustling about setting up bowls of liquid and cloths.

'Can you sit up?' she asked Harry gently. Harry tried to push himself up, but in the end Ron helped him to sit, slumped exhaustedly, on the edge of his bed, head hung drowsily.

Hermione sat next to him and dipped a washcloth in a bowl of warm water on his bedside. 'This might hurt.' She told Harry quietly. He nodded shakily.

She began cleaning the blood from his cuts. Harry gritted his teeth, trying hard not to worry her with the fact that it increased the stinging to almost unbearable levels, but she could not see him screw his eyes up with his head hung towards the floor. But eventually the heat spread through him and the water began to sooth the aching more than it stung the gashes, and it was much more bearable, even with his scar twinging irritatingly.

'Now, I'm going to use this potion to help heal the lacerations. It definitely will hurt.' Hermione told him anxiously.

Harry merely nodded again and braced himself. When the cloth of warm potion touched his wounds he let out a very small yelp of pain and winced as the stinging returned full force. Hermione seemed pained to continue causing him more agony, but he argued that if it was for the better, he didn't mind dealing with a bit more stinging…after all, he had come this far from the cruciatus, it wouldn't make that much more difference to him.

Far from consoling her she seemed a little more distressed, to look into those deep and haunted green eyes.

It seemed to take a very long time to soak the wounds properly, but finally, Hermione was done, and with a tap of her wand, his chest was bandaged and she had given him the incantation for dressing the wounds.

Harry gave her a grateful hug, preferring not to use his sore throat.

Hermione and Ginny then left to let Harry treat the wounds on his legs.

Ron sat down and occupied himself with a glass of water while Harry took off his blood soaked trousers.

'What day is it?' Harry asked Ron thickly as he adjusted to the stinging and heat of the water on his lashed calf muscle.

Ron looked up, slightly alarmed. 'Saturday.' He said.

'Good, I can sleep in and not miss any classes.' Harry said, now wincing violently from the potion he applied under his knee. Ron frowned. 'You're not going to classes on Monday?' he said, not really as a question. Harry's eyes blazed at the floor, though he did not see it. He was thinking about Umbridge.

"I'm not letting her get to me. She's not going to break me, not now. I'm not letting her after all this.' He said hoarsly, wrecking his voice even more with anger. Ron's mouth was open. 'Harry… it's not about that anymore, this is a matter of you just wont be well enough by then.' He said anxiously.

'I'm not going to let her think she's weakening me.' Harry said shortly, his throat tight.

"Please Harry, can't you see that's exactly what she's done! If you go on and she keeps trying to break you she…I'm afraid…Harry, she might kill you…on purpose.' Said Ron, his voice shaking.

Harry looked up at him, a lump in his throat. They stared into each other's eyes for a long time.

Harry looked down and bandaged both legs with his wand (which Umbridge had thrown back at him and Ginny picked up when they left the great hall).

'I'll go back when I'm strong enough to walk properly again.' He said quietly.

He changed exhaustedly into his pyjamas and dined gratefully on chocolate frogs with Ron (he had lived on nothing in those dungeons but tasteless nourishment potions and blood restoration serums for three weeks), before he finally lay down to sleep (after cleaning the blood from his sheets with his wand), and it was not long before he was finally able to shut out the pain once more.

* * *

Harry woke up again late Saturday afternoon, and by borrowing Ron and Hermione's notes was able to review many missed classes.

Whenever he was in the common room, people either stared at him constantly or would not look at him at all. This did not really bother him, though he was surprised at the number of people who came up to him, including the Creeveys, raving spectacularly about his giving Umbridge the finger. But other than this, he was not bothered by people's reactions; he had more important things to think about. He treated his legs with various potions he stole from the hospital wing using his invisibility cloak, trying to make himself fit to do more than stumble about, to be able to walk properly again by Monday.

To Ron's disappointment and anxiety, Harry was able to walk well enough to go back to class on Monday.

The hall was unusually quiet at breakfast, but Harry of course, cared little about this and had more pressing matters to deal with. And what was more, he was too busy enjoying his breakfast, which was even better than he had ever remembered…probably because he had more reason to appreciate it…

His first class of the day was Charms. Harry, to his surprise, picked up the freezing charm they were learning instantly. What glances Professor Flitwick shot him were nervous, and it seemed as though he felt if he looked at Harry to long he might burst into tears.

Thankfully however, he did not, and Harry was not embarrassed before the class.

In Transfiguration, the only hint of McGonagall showing any worries about him was a brief, pointed stare of anxiety, before turning her gaze away.

In Potions, as expected, Snape ignored him. This of course somewhat offended Ron, who cursed him quietly at Harry's side for a long time.

'Yea, that'd be right. He's pretending he had nothing to do with it…like he couldn't have stopped Umbridge, like he wasn't the one holding you up there while…' Ron broke off awkwardly, still glaring at Snape's back as he passed them.

'Actually…Ron…if he hadn't told Umbridge I wasn't lying… I'd probably still be down in that chamber…' Harry replied very quietly, cutting up his venomous tentacula leaves. He shot a side ways look at Ron, who looked quite taken aback.

'Harry…I,"

"It's ok. Its not like I expected him to do it…Dumbledor probably got wind of it and told him to.' Harry replied. And it was true, Harry did suspect as much. But at least Ron stopped fuming at Snape and was able to start on the ever-irritating actions of Malfoy, who was being as snide as ever.

"Well, well, looks like our new head is doing everything this school needs, finally. Firing the half-breeds, rewarding the right people, punishing Potty…hey Potter, tell me, is your poor little bottom still sore from getting whipped? Did Granger kiss it all better?'

The Slytherins all burst out in hardly suppressed laughter, Snape ignoring them as usual.

"Well you would know all about butt kissing wouldn't you Malfoy?' Harry replied coolly. Now the Gryffindors were hard put to quieten their laughter. Malfoy's face went red and he didn't say another word.

However, when Harry was leaning over his cauldron making sure it was hot enough, Malfoy walked by on his way to the ingredients cupboard and said 'Better watch that mouth of yours Potter, or I might have to land you back down in that dungeon…' and he slapped Harry hard on the back. Harry gritted his teeth and took in a sharp breath as the pain spread down his spine, while Malfoy walked away, cackling.

Harry was glad when lunch came as his back ached from leaning over his cauldron in concentration. And Malfoy's slap, which had not helped.

A hot lunch though, soon cured all his weariness, and although apprehensive, he felt ready to face defense against the dark arts.

Indeed as they walked up towards their classroom, Ron and Hermione seemed much more anxious about it.

Umbridge gave him a sickly smile and piercingly cold gaze when they entered the classroom. 'You sit up the front Mr. Potter. I don't want you disturbing your friends during their class time.' She said in honeyed tones, as though she were being helpful or motherly. But Harry saw the gloating, goading look in her beady eyes and toady face.

Ron and Hermione were anxious and angry but they knew better than to say anything. Harry sighed as he set himself up in desk right before Umbridge's. No one spoke at all.

Harry was staring blankly at his book on the appointed reading page, not really taking any of it in. he was daydreaming about what it would be like not to be believed a nutter, if Umbridge wasn't there, if Dumbledor was still there, if the whole fortnight and a half of torture were erased…

Harry jumped as something hit the desk sharply in front of him. He looked up to see Umbridge's toady face glaring at him with a triumphant smile. She had slapped her stubby hand down on the desk.

'That's another detention, Potter.' She said softly, her black velvet bow quivering.

'What for?' Harry blurted in confusion.

She narrowed her eyes, but he merely looked at her blankly, wondering what on earth she could find to pin him with.

'He hasn't done anything!' shouted Ron angrily and indignantly. Umbridge looked up at him with a shrewd, sweet smile of indulgence.

'Would you like a detention too, Mr. Weasley?' she said, as though asking if he would like some sweets. Harry, who was looking around at Ron, caught his gaze as he opened his mouth to reply, and gave a small urgent shake of his head. Ron closed his mouth and glared at Umbridge, who's face became toadier as her grin broadened.

'I didn't think so. It is not your concern, Mr. Weasley, as to my reason for giving a detention. Though I shall point out, that even when I separate him from you, it is clear from my observation he is still distracting you. Not to mention, no one could doubt the need for him to be taught better manners still after his display on Saturday.' Umbridge said, her voice even girlier than usual in her increasing happiness at having a reason to punish him.

Harry knew he wouldn't get away with what he had said and done in front of the school; he had expected that the moment he walked into the classroom…but distracting Ron and Hermione by not doing anything? Harry knew by this that she was grasping at straws…if he hadn't done those things, she still would have given him detention. However, it was also clear, from one look, as she went back to her table, that she was punishing him for daring to come back to classes so soon, and (supposedly) well enough to face her. She had probably hoped for him to hide in Gryffindor tower so she could go and drag him out and make a pitiful fool of him.

As soon as the lesson was over and Harry had joined Ron and Hermione, they began to rage as soon as they were out of earshot.

'She _can't_ do that! She just _can't!_ We should tell McGonagall…'

'I don't believe it, you didn't even move! _How _can she say you were disturbing us…'

'We were talking to try and get ourselves in trouble to get her off your case…'

'Please, don't worry about it…' Harry finally said to stop their anxious and desperate babbling. 'I wouldn't have been surprised if she had given me detention if I had bowed down at her feet and proclaimed myself legally insane.' Harry sighed wearily as they headed for the grounds for Care of magical creatures.

But Ron and Hermione continued their anxious conversation as to the lengths Umbridge might go to get Harry in trouble.

'…I mean, the trouble really all started when Dumbledor was forced to leave. Now I'm not blaming him at all, but it would have put her in a bad mood. And as Harry was there, I suppose she blamed him and wanted revenge, and as she was suddenly promoted, she had all the power she needed. It seems nothing could now restrain her from what she really wanted to do. She just snapped and she's finding any way she can to break Harry by physical torture. I'm…afraid… it might not just be writing lines with a bloodline quill that she'll punish you with Harry." Said Hermione, sincerely disturbed. Thankfully Harry didn't have to reply, as they came to Hagrid's hut and where the other gryffindor students were already standing. Thanks to Umbridge's decrees, all Hagrid could do in way of greeting was smile dodgedly through his blue and purple bruised face, only one beetle black eye rested anxiously on Harry as the other was puffy and purple.

To Harry's dismay, arriving with the Slytherins across the lawn, came Umbridge. Ron gave a soft moan of despair. But Umbridge did not even have her clipboard with her. She gave the class a leering smile before she stopped in front of Hagrid.

"I SAY, MR HAGRID," she said loudly and slowly, as was her unnecessary manner around Hagrid. "Hullo there professor!" said Hagrid in slight surprise, as he had not noticed her approach due to her height ( or more, lack thereof). "I suppose ye'll be wantin' yer delivery for yer demonstration, Wait 'ere a mo' and I'll bring it around from the back." Hagrid said, and he stumped off limpingly around the side of his house.

Harry, ignoring the sniggers from the Slytherins, was curious as to what delivery Hagrid had to give to Umbridge.

Hagrid came around again, carrying a large crate (which looked suspiciously just the right size for a skrewt), which had air holes and emitted a soft growl when bumped.

"THANK YOU! I (she pointed to herself dramatically) WILL BE BACK TO MONITOR (she mimed her pen and clipboard) YOUR LESSON SOON! (She pointed to her watch)", Umbridge yelled. And flicking her stubby wand, she levitated the crate along beside her up to the castle.

"Now, terday I got summat important to show yeh. Umbridge 'erself asked me ter teach yeh about it, 'cause SHE says there aint nothin' more dangerous than it at the moment…" Hagrid said in a dubious tone, as though greatly doubting this fact. "Now yeh all follow me over 'ere a bit, cause it likes the dark, funnily enough." Hagrid instructed, stumping slowly towards the forest with Fang at his heels.

Harry followed apprehensively, sure that if Umbridge was calling it very dangerous, it was probably only a Hinkypunk.

But not far into the trees, Harry saw a light, much stronger and erratic than that of a hinkypunk, and as he drew nearer, a sense of something much more dreadful grasped him.

And then there it stood… and Harry found himself alone, approaching it closer, even Ron and Hermione had halted a little way back.

It was terrible…yet something more fascinating was about t, in it's light…It was a huge, tall, horse-like creature, but there was also something very beastly about it, and it burned with bright flame from it's charred white coat. Its mane was a plume of leaping flame in the wind, and its tail a fountain of embers cascading to the ground, but disappearing into invisible ash. And flames licked up and around the hocks from above the line of the charcoal black hooves.

And it turned one great and terrible white eye to him, nostrils flaring red with hot air. The brightness almost hurt Harry's eyes, but he did not look away…he could not…

"W-What IS it?" stammered Hermione breathlessly. And that gave this creature some seriously scary feeling, because that was not something often said by Hermione. If she didn't know it, chances are hardly anyone did.

Hagrid, standing not far from Harry, answered with some solemn respect, if not awe. " 's a Heliopath."

"They DO exist!?" gasped Neville, wide eyed. The creature threw its head and grumbled. Harry shuddered.

"Yep. Native to Australia mind you, but they c'n be controlled by the right spells n equipment. They are fairly dangerous mind, they can breathe fire hot'r than a Dragon, and their bite is venomous. Brings on terrible fever. That is, if you survive an attack from one, which isn' real common where they come from".

"Did this one come from Australia?" Asked Harry blankly. "Nope. Bred by the ministry. They got a whole lot o them. They're mostly fer 'research purposes'" Hagrid replied, though he sounded dubious of this. "Can you touch them?" Asked Parvatti, trembling. "Well, I dunno if I recommend it as such… If it trusts yeh it wont burn, but it aint worth the risk if yer not entirely sure…" said Hagrid warningly.

But looking into the great, bright eye, Harry found himself compelled by a sudden urge, and wanted very much to get closer… he had no idea why… did this beast perhaps have some strange alluring power the ministry knew nothing of yet? Was he under its spell? Or did he just… like it for what it was?

"…If yeh really want ter though, yeh could try a freezing charm on it ter pat it…"Hagrid added thoughtfully. They all watched, suddenly surprised, fearful and apprehensive, as Harry approached it silently, as though drawn irresistibly toward it, wand undrawn. Hagrid could not find voice to give him a caution… or even encouragement or instruction, and merely stood watching, like the others, holding their breath as Harry slowly extended a hand to its head. It tossed its head a little, the bridal of iron secured by chain reigns to a peg in the ground jingled ominously. But as Harry's hand came into contact with the creatures skin, it did not burn. The sensation was much like floo-powder fire… a warm breeze-like sensation played around Harry's hand as he patted the creature's forehead and nose. It reminded him a little of buckbeak and he wondered how Sirius would have liked this creature. He would have to tell him about it in his next letter, but then he remembered how hard it was to communicate with his godfather thanks to Umbridge. A flame did burn him then, but it was on the inside.

The whole class seemed to release the held breath of tension as one. Harry patted the creature's neck as it bowed its flaming head comfortably, its licking tongues of flame harmless for the moment. Harry could not help but grin slightly. As with Hippogriffs, the initial shock of terror wore off and Harry began to better appreciate its subtle beauty and form. The graceful embering tail and surprisingly soft coat…

But a sudden shout shocked Harry and the rest of the class out of their silent trance.

"Potter! WHAT do you think you are doing!?"

Harry whipped around, stepping back slightly from the Heliopath. Umbridge had returned with her clipboard. She stood with her hands on her hips, squatter and toadier than ever, squinting meanly and suspiciously at him. Those near her drew away slightly. Harry opened and closed his now dry mouth and swallowed. It seemed hotter now, near the Heliopath, but Harry could not answer Umbridge…he could not explain why he liked the creature so much and had wanted to pat it, nor could he say how he knew it would not hurt him. Suddenly he felt very exposed and embarrassed… more so even than when she had pulled him up before the school…

He heard Malfoy sniggering and knew his face was going red. "That's a week of detention then Potter." She said, suddenly sweet again, and sounding extremely pleased.

No one, not even Harry, dared to defy her. He stood back again, and Umbridge dismissed Hagrid, taking over the lesson. She spent the rest of the double lesson trying to instill a fear of the Heliopath in them, though this proved difficult after Harry's 'taming' of it, and Umbridge threw him and the Heliopath a lot of dirty looks as it chewed the bark of a nearby tree in a rather non-threatening manner.

By the time the bell rang, it was getting dark and they were all, even the Slytherins, glad to be getting away from Umbridge. "EIGHT Potter! And tell your friends NOT to wait up!" She said flatly to him as he left, her sweet girlyness dropped in her exasperation and exhaustion. Harry was very silent during dinner, and the comment about Ron and Hermione not bothering to stay up weighed more and more heavily on his mind.

When Harry went up to Umbridge's office, his stomach writhing, he knocked once on the door. But instead of a voice telling him to enter, there were quick footsteps, and the door was opened. Umbridge's face appeared before him with a wicked smile. Harry did not like this at all…

"Come Potter, your detention will be held in the defense classroom tonight", she simpered, and she led the way ploddingly to the classrooms.

When they reached the usual classroom, Umbridge did not open the door. "You go in while I go and get something important. I wont be long." She said silkily with an increasingly innocent and girlish tone, which made Harry even more wary.

She opened the door and basically shoved him into the totally dark classroom. She closed the door and it gave a loud click. It was now locked. Suddenly, Harry had a bad foreboding feeling. He was locked into the dark classroom, with only bright full moonlight filtering through the far windows. Harry felt angry at his fear as he realized it was all probably just a scare tactic of Umbridges, and he strolled forcibly to the nearest desk and sat on it.

But suddenly, a thunderous growl from behind drained all his anger and doubled his fear. He whipped around in time to see a huge dark shadow with glinting eyes and teeth leap at him and he only had time to throw out his hands. He was bowled backwards with a hard fall to the floor. He tried to wrestle the beast off, his hands grasping firmly about its neck, but it slashed at his chest with sharp claws and Harry cried out in pain at the bloody mauling. His grip was weakened and the thing, writhing wildly, broke free of his hands and lunged with its teeth.

Harry let out a cry of agony as the jaws clamped him between neck and shoulder, teeth sinking seeringly into his skin. He felt something terrible seeping into the wound, like white-hot poison, and he went rigid as shivers passed down his body. After only moments, the thing relinquished.

Harry lay still, in shock and agonizing pain, when all of a sudden a great and excruciating sensation made him go rigid again. It felt as though his very bones were being broken, snapped, and crushed back together again. It seemed to last an eternity, but it was over within seconds.

Harry lay where he was, shaking as he listened to the contented growling of the werewolf.

Eventually, he mustered the resolve to look at what damage had been done. He felt the scratches stinging on his chest as he moved. He got to his hands and knees… he could not muster the strength to raise himself any higher so he stood on all fours and looked down. His stomach dissolved to see the black paws, his forearms covered in storm grey-fading to silver fur, claws scraping the stone floor slightly.

Harry's mind was reeling. He did not want to believe it…

I'm a werewolf…I've just been turned into a werewolf…and I'll have to live with this for the rest of my life…

It seemed absurd, to have these thoughts, but as he looked up and saw a reflection of glinting yellow eyes and a great terrible creature in the window pane, it hit him like a blow to the stomach.

He was so devastated that he did not quickly register the sound of the door, or the urgent muttered spell. But the green light of it caught his eye.

He heard a small flump, and the contented growling ceased. He looked swiftly at the other wolf, which lay, struck dead in the dark. He whipped around to face Umbridge, snarling uncontrollably as she closed the door behind her. Harry could not control his instincts. Before he knew what he was doing he had leapt at her. She waved her wand at him as he pounced…

* * *

When he transformed back, Harry was barely aware of anything that had happened that night. The heavy metal chain around his neck slithered off innocently, but he did not move or open his eyes. His arms and legs, and parts of his torso, were wet with blood and painful from vicious maulings.

The bandages that had covered his chest from the still open whipping wounds were now mere tatters under his torn jumper and robes. Suddenly, something grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and dragged him up, threw him around and forced him into a chair.

"You are weak, Potter. Let this be a lesson to you, not to meddle with things bigger and meaner and smatter than you." Said Umbridge somewhere above him, still with that infuriating and sickening girly voice.

Harry tried to open his eyes. He wiped blood out of them with a stinging, mauled hand. Umbridge told him to take off his robes and jumper, and he did so, too exhausted to protest. He was quite cold, bare chested, and Umbridge began applying a stinging potion to his arms and hands to close the beep bites and scratch marks he had inflicted upon himself that night. The wounds on his chest however, she left open and merely bandaged again with a flick of her wand.

She mended and cleaned his jumper and robes with a few more flicks, and the blood from his jeans, only bandaging the bare wounds there as well.

He put his clothes back on and she got him roughly out the door, it was very painful to walk.

"Up to your dormitory. I expect you at classes today. ALL of them. And no other teachers are to know of your condition. Not even Madame Pomfrey. Do you understand me?" She said simperingly. Harry swallowed his anger and nodded deftly, and she slammed the door in his face.

He walked strugglingly and agonizingly up to Gryffindor tower and mumbled the password groggily to the Fat Lady. "You look like the living dead my dear," she exclaimed airily. Harry could not answer. He dragged himself through the portrait hole, and forced himself up the last flight of steps to his dormitory. The door opened and closed soundlessly. Harry collapsed on his bed, closing his eyes wearily, exhausted, confused, morose, terrible… But he could not sleep… the pain would not go away, his thoughts kept racing.

The horrible truth gnawed at his mind and torn body, unrelenting and frightening. He wanted to run away, far away, to find a dark space where he could crawl up and die. He wanted… he needed, an escape, a release from all the terror within him. But what could he do to ease it?

Nothing… there was nothing he could do. He was alone. He could not express any of that which plagued him.

He lay in silent turmoil for a long time, trying to sort it all out, to come to terms… to calm himself… to stop thinking…

A voice, seemingly from far away, shocked him suddenly.

"Harry? Harry, god, are you alright mate?" said Ron as he looked down at him. His anxiety hit Harry and he broke down, everything, his mind was a mess of thoughts that had all suddenly shattered like glass and a sense of overwhelming panic took him. Harry suddenly grasped Ron's arm. Ron sat on the bed looking both alarmed and concerned.

Harry was barely even aware of thinking about any word that he spoke then, but it sounded as though all he had done for hours was lay there and practice the words in his head. He opened his dry mouth. "Ron, she's turned me into a werewolf. She set it up, she set me up to get bitten and she kept me chained up in the classroom all night. She's turned me into a half-breed… to make me suffer because she believes I deserve it as punishment for surviving and defying her." Harry said all this in a quiet, distressed and totally destroyed voice. Ron gaped at him for a moment as it sunk in.

"No…"

Harry bowed his head.

"No… she … she can't… you're serious?…you HAVE to tell someone-" Ron replied urgently. "I can't, she'll find out, she'll know. There is worse she could do to me. I had to tell you so you could be safe…" Harry croaked. "Worse? What could possibly be bloody worse than this?…" Ron whispered frantically. Harry shook his head, his face in his hands. His scar was still aching.

"I need to sleep… she said I have to be at all my classes… please, just… wake me after breakfast… I have to sleep." Harry croaked in pitiful surrender to his pain.

"Yea… of course mate… should I… tell Hermione?" He asked quietly and anxiously. Harry nodded. Ron got up and began dressing while Harry lay back and closed his eyes, praying for his mind and body to numb all thought and pain…

Only a few hours later, Harry was sitting in Transfiguration between Ron and Hermione, trying to concentrate through sleep deprivation, a massive headache, aching Werewolf wounds, an empty stomach and Umbridge sitting in the corner watching him smugly.

Every time he began to doze off, he would be awoken by a loud coughing noise. This happened so frequently that McGonagall told Umbridge to get a drink of water or shut-up, much to the classes delight.

Umbridge glared furiously at the towering McGonagal, who gave Harry a pointed stare of concern and slight anxiety while her back was turned to Umbridge.

Ron and Hermione elbowing or poking him whenever his head drooped slightly kept Harry awake through the rest of the lesson. By the end of the lesson, he was thoroughly irritated, but grateful to them nonetheless. However he hadn't really managed to take in much of the lesson after all that.

By the end of the Day, he was so exhausted; he was surprised that he was able to haul himself all the way up to Umbridge's office for the night's detention. She was there waiting of course, with a horrible smile on her pouchy face. A smile he had seen far too often before the cruciatus was cast upon him.

"Stand there, Mr.Potter. This won't take long…" She said sweetly, blinking at him with cold, bitter eyes. Harry stood in the middle of the office as she indicated, and felt like a prisoner led to Death row before a firing squad.

He did not even need her to say anything for him to know what was coming, but he braced himself. He still wasn't going to submit, he wasn't going to give her the satisfaction, he would fight her…

"CRUCIO!" She said harshly, short wand pointed at his heart. Harry stood rigid for a moment as the shock of incredible agony hit him. He lost control of his legs, he was screaming… surely someone would hear?… The pain in his head was blinding, his screams deafening, the pain unbearable… throwing his nerves into chaos, causing his heart to pound painfully and his back to arch inward, to twitch violently… it would go on forever…

And then it ended, and just like every other time, Harry wondered if it had killed him. But the reminiscent stabs of pain in his aching body told him he was indeed still alive… to some degree. "Get up, worthless boy!" Umbridge said harshly, a little breathless with excitement. She dragged him by the scruff of neck and he stood on violently shaking legs. Before he could gather his thoughts he heard her again, "CRUCIO!"

Harry's screams seemed to tear his throat, but the pain of the cries was mute compared to the fire which consumed the rest of his body, as it caused him to writhe in agony, once more without control of his body.

This time the pain was worse, and it pierced his head so he thought he would black out before he died. But as the excruciating curse brought him to the edge of breaking and darkness, it stopped… or more to the point, diminished, though the aching lingered worse than before. Harry still twitched and shook violently, his nerves shot to pieces by the immense pain they had endured. But Umbridge did not let him rest there. She dragged him up to his knees and before Harry was aware of what she was doing, she kicked him in the stomach with her steel-toed boot. Harry doubled over, winded, gasping for breath, coughing, something warm trickling from his mouth, something with a familiar, bitter taste. Umbridge got him to his feet and threw him against a wall using her wand.

Harry took in large, desperate gasps of air and steadied his dizzy, blurred vision to focus on Umbridge. She was smirking at him as he cringed gingerly against the wall.

"Get out of my sight Potter, you filthy half-blood. You deserve all you get, remember that…" she hissed in his ear before grasping his arm and forcing him roughly out the door, slamming it behind him, it's closing cutting off the sound of her cackling. She had magically sound proofed it… no one HAD heard Harry's screams, no one could.

Harry, still shaking violently, began to stumble up towards Gryffindor tower. His stomach was writhing with shame at having been made to cringe at Umbridge's feet.

'You're weak… you're not supposed to be so weak in front of her… you're supposed to fight her, and what do you do? You fall to pieces… Harry Potter you're a FOOL…' he thought bitterly to himself, bitter and rueful.

* * *

It had gone on all week, and by Friday, people were beginning to take a lot of notice.

Umbridge wasn't in Transfiguration Friday morning after a long night of more than two Crucios.

So when Harry, still aching all over and feeling very stiff and bashed, fell into irresistible sleep at the back of the classroom, Ron and Hermione did not have the heart to wake him. McGonagal herself gave them a pointed look and said nothing all lesson, and so few people noticed.

But in Potions after lunch, Harry had to deal with ongoing pain, feeling quite ill and having to concoct a complex potion.

Snape, it seemed, considering Harry's nightly detentions, tried to ignore him by picking more thoroughly on other Gryffindors, who's potions were all turning out better than Harry's. Harry just could not concentrate, he was so tired, and a particularly loud cackle from Malfoy as he cracked a joke about Harry's scouring potion being as effective at scouring as a toad's backside, made him loose concentration at a crucial moment. He dropped too much Knarl bile in his cauldron, resulting in him being shrouded in thick black smoke. He inhaled quite a lot unfortunately, and his already sore throat was easily irritated and made him cough violently. Snape stalked over and dully scolded his potion making abilities (or lack thereof as he put it), but Harry did not hear him.

In no way should inhaling smoke cause this painful a reaction surely? But Harry was desperately gulping for air as his irritated chest was racked by violent spasms. Something was quite wrong.

And then, with a retching feeling, something trickled from Harry's mouth and onto the hand which covered it.

Harry swallowed, the coughing abating as he recognized the familiar taste in his mouth. He looked down at the large red spots of blood on his palm.

"…Potter, did you hear me?" Snape snapped in irritation before spotting Harry's hand. "Harry… is that…is that blood?" Asked Neville shakily, who was sitting next to him on the bench.

"…I…It's nothing…" Harry tried to mutter as he wiped the blood off his hand and mouth with the sleeve of his robes. "Hospital wing Potter, that's five points from Gryffindor and another zero…" Snape said silkily, but Harry replied nervously, "Sir I… I can't, go to the hospital wing… I was banned Sir…"

The whole room was dead silent, listening to Harry's hoarse reply with bewilderment.

"She CAN'T ban you from the hospital wing, surely?" said Dean Thomas incredulously. By 'she', they all knew he meant Umbridge.

"Very well Potter. Clean this up and stay behind after class." Snape answered flatly, giving him an odd look. Harry tried to ignore the glances the rest of the class kept throwing him. Parvatti and Lavender trying to see if there was more blood, Malfoy smirking knowingly, Neville looking frightened and Ron and Hermione anxious.

He was glad not to have to face them outside class after the bell.

When everyone in the class had filed out, Snape closed the door and Harry stood expectantly at his desk, awaiting snide comments or goading as was usual from the potions master. Instead, Snape swept up to him and took a large bottle of potion from his cloak, which he handed to Harry. Harry took it, confused. "Take that after the curses. It will numb the pain. You know you must tell no-one… you have detention. My office, eight o'clock, next Friday evening. Be there alone." Snape said in a low voice that was almost a whisper. Harry, slightly confused yet, grateful, nodded in understanding. He put his potion in his bag and moved off to his next class.

It did not take long for the news of the coughed up blood to spread, but no one said a word to Harry for fear of Umbridge. After a spate of long weekend detention tortures of which to Harry was a blur of pain, Umbridge's cruel sweet cruel tone and retching upon return to Gryffindor tower, Harry dragged himself to the first of a second week of detentions on Monday.

By now everyone in Gryffindor tower knew Umbridge was still torturing him, but how exactly, no one could say. They of course did not recognize the after effects of the Cruciatus, even Hermione, not the way Snape had the second he had seen Harry the previous week. Tonight was particularly bad.

Harry retched twice in Umbridge's office. But out of seven lengthy sessions of the Cruciatus, four times he fell only to his knees, and fought the curse, and would not fall any further. She was so angry by the end that she opened some wounds on his back and dismissed him. He stumbled several times on the way up to Gryffindor tower, each time finding it more difficult to drag himself to his feet once more. By the time he reached the Fat Lady and she looked at him with some concern, he was so exhausted that his brain could not even recall the correct password.

"mumbleless mim- I mean, mimbletona mumbu…lous…, mimbleness moonbliton…" he tried desperately, trying not to let his legs shake beneath him or collapse completely. The Fat Lady looked at him with a painful expression. "Oh, just go in, poor dear…" She mumbled sadly as she swung forward. Harry stumbled forward and almost fell through the portrait hole. He got quite a shock when he emerged into a crowded common room, for it was at least one n the morning.

He was aware that everyone was staring at him. He squinted against the brightly lit candles. "Dear lord what's she done to him?…" breathed a flabbergasted looking Angelina. "What's going on?…w-why are you all here?" Harry croaked in confusion to the silence. He did not realize that he was deathly pale, shaking and covered in sweat. "Harry are you… are you alright?" Ginny asked with deep concern.

"I'm… fine. Really" he said most unconvincingly, his voice cracking. "No you're not, look at you! You can't come in here half dead and tell ME you're OK." Said Parvatti incredulously. "Oh gees, he's got you all!" Crowed an exasperated voice. Harry's eyes darted to Seamus, who stood, looking angrily at Harry with his arms crossed. Everyone's face turned to him. "Can't you SEE he's just doing this for attention? So you'll feel sorry for him! WHY would Umbridge torture him when she already knows he doesn't have the information she wants. He's just sucking you all in, he's just a nutter, I bet he does it to himself-"

"THAT'S IT!" Bellowed another voice, cutting Seamus off mid sentence. Seamus was suddenly bowled over by a tall red haired and freckly whirlwind, which began punching him. Before Harry was even aware of what state he was in he dashed forward towards the two.

"I'm SICK of your BULLSHIT! YOU SHUT YOUR MOUTH ABOUT HIM OR I SWEAR…" Ron was yelling as he pinned a frantically thrashing, loudly swearing Seamus to the floor as they exchanged blows. Harry however, dove forward and pulled Ron off with one arm around Ron's and the other around his neck, straining his voice to be heard, "NO Ron, it's not worth it! If McGonagal hears… Ron… NO!…" but the force needed to restrain Ron was more than Harry had left in him, and his body could not cope with the sudden need for stamina he didn't have.

Mid sentence, Harry's breath was short and his body gave up. He collapsed, freeing a very distraught Ron.

"Harry! Harry I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to…" Ron stammered anxiously. Harry was leaning forward on his shaking arms, gasping for air to reply. "I'm, I'm fine…I," but with a rasping gasp for air, another coughing fit was triggered, and his body was racked with severe jerks. The violent fit was extremely painful and lasted several seconds before causing him to make a slight retching action. A large amount of blood trickled from his mouth onto the floor.

"Harry! Oh god…" Ron muttered, his voice higher than usual. Hermione was by his side as well, a hand on his back. She could feel his violently shaking body straining to stay conscious, but she knew how desperately he needed rest. "Tell me he's faking that!" said Ron angrily to Seamus, to anxious murmured replies around the room. "He could be!" spat Seamus, his left eye going black. "I don't think so… do you honestly believe he would do THIS to himself?" said Hermione gravely, taking a damp hand from Harry's back and drawing back his robes to reveal his bloodstained shirt, caused by the re-opened wounds. Many around the room made whimpering noises or gasped in horror. It was clear that they believed Harry incapable of self-inflicting such wounds. And indeed of course they thought so rightly.

"She's… she's still whipping him?… EVERY day!?…" Neville breathed shakily, wide eyed and horror struck. But amid the feverish murmurs around the room, Harry shook his head and tried valiantly to stand up again, but being so exhausted, managed only to stagger up and fall back onto one of the odd couches.

… "_She can't do that! This is abuse!…"_

"_Then imagine what she'll do to the rest of us! Look at what she's done to Potter…"_

"_She's using him as an example, trying to suppress us under the ministry…"_

"_Oh god, has he lost a lot of blood? Will he be OK?…"_

"Look…No…" Harry tried to raise his voice to calm them all down, but his throat stung and sudden stabbing pains in his stomach came on so intensely he doubled over. People who saw suddenly quieted to watch him. Some moved closer with anxious words of concern. Harry however, merely shifted to the edge of the couch and leant forward as unbearable pain wrenched his stomach and he felt the familiar symptoms before retching quite violently. Ginny looked at him, horrified, almost scared it seemed. "That isn't from being whipped… she's poisoned him…" she whispered quietly.

As Harry tried to recover, wiping blood tainted vomit from his mouth, a wave of fear passed through him. Did she know about the Lycanthropy too? Was her reference to poisoning by the bite?

"NO…she hasn't poisoned me… yet…" Harry croaked feebly. Everyone silenced as he spoke though. "Then what HAS she been doing to you Harry? Why can't you tell us?" Hermione asked gently. "Because if I do… if she finds out…" Harry took a deep steadying breath, "I don't want to end up back in that dungeon room." He said quietly, almost desperately, "… this is between me and Umbridge… and I am not going to let her get to me." He said, a strange intensity to his horribly cracked voice. Everyone in the room looked on solemnly as Ron then helped Harry up to their dormitory as Hermione instructed, also telling everyone else in her best prefect manner to get back to bed.

At least the debate had been settled among the Gryffindors, and all were now agreed, even Seamus silently, that what Harry was going through was terrifyingly real.

But for Harry, the night was not as restful now as he had hoped…

Though it did not take him long to fall asleep, he found himself running once more down the dark corridor… toward the department of mysteries…

Toward the weapon…

Yet although he had dreamt of it over and over in the long dark hours alone in that dungeon room, he still did not know why…

The door was ajar, a chink of blue light visible. He reached it and it swung open… again he was in a room with blue walls. He passed it quickly, for in his dreams his legs were not nearly as painful to move as in reality. Into the room with glittering walls, he did not stop to look, he just kept on towards the door at the other end. He passed through it finally, his scar beginning to ache. He passed rows and rows of high shelves full of dusty orbs, counting as he went. His heart was beating fast, excited… but he could not read the row numbers anymore. They began to fade, he lost count… his scar was aching so he could not see any more…

"Harry! Wake up or you won't get any breakfast!" It was Ron's voice. He shook Harry's shoulder slightly. Harry groaned and opened his stinging eyes. He sat up and tried to rub away the aching in his scar. "I'm up… thanks," he mumbled groggily as Ron stood, still looking anxiously at him. "You alright mate? You were talking in your sleep again." He said quietly as Harry swung his aching legs out of bed, still rubbing his faintly stinging scar. "Yeah, fine. Just a bad dream." Harry replied carelessly. Ron seemed satisfied, if not still anxious, but continued getting dressed. When Harry was ready, they met with Hermione and went downstairs for breakfast. Many of the Gryffindors at the table in the Great Hall kept shooting him grave looks, a few asking if he was feeling any better. The Creevey brothers even volunteered to curse Umbridge thoroughly to spare him a few detentions. They seemed a little taken aback at the ferventness with which he dissuaded them from doing this. The truth of it being, as he explained shortly, was that he didn't want them to have to endure detentions like his at the moment, as he was convinced they would not have any reservations in carrying out the suggestion.

Harry didn't end up eating much for the sake of it made him feel ill, and by any means he was sure that at the end of the day he would be vomiting most of it up. As much as this prospect disgusted him, it was not without truth.

The day was long and tiresome, though Harry did try and pay attention and at least managed their silencing spell in charms. And as Umbridge was not in Transfiguration, when Harry could only half-vanish his turtle, McGonagal advised him to practice on Umbridge, which did indeed cheer Harry and the rest of the class up.

In the afternoon of course, after Harry had tried and failed to digest some dinner, he made his way grudgingly up to Umbridge's office, wondering vaguely whether or not he should act on McGonagal's suggestion.

* * *

He arrived earlier than usual, that night, up in Gryffindor tower. White, shaking, exhausted and aching, he gave the Fat Lady the correct password and entered the common room. It was only eleven o'clock, but no one was there tonight.

Thankful for the lack of attention, Harry trudged up to his dormitory, entered silently, finding all occupants apparently asleep. He sat down wearily on his bed and reached into the draw of his bedside table, extracting the bottle of potion Snape had given him. He took a swig of the strong, alcoholic smelling stuff. As bad as it smelt, it tasted more like mild tea than liquor. By any means, it certainly helped. Most of the aching of the cruciatus left his body, leaving him with only the slight and constant prickle of his scar.

But his sleep, though he fell into it easily, was troubled again by the dark corridor.

The week was long, drawn out and painful… but not once would Harry bow to Umbridge's torture. He fought her all the way, despite the fact he could barely eat for the pain in his stomach and loss of his voice.

It was not until Friday evening after potions that Harry was reminded he had a separate detention.

"Potter, eight o'clock, my office." Snape drawled after class. Harry could not believe it… he had never imagined he would be so relieved to have a detention with Snape. When he voiced this, Ron looked horrified. "Mate, Umbridge must be worse than a barrel full of angry Skrewts for you to prefer Snape." He said incredulously. Harry merely nodded. Ron didn't realize just how much more he would rather deal with the skrewts…

At dinner, Harry found himself more able to stomach something, probably because it wasn't going to leave his stomach the wrong way again later. And at eight o'clock, he had descended the steps to the cool dungeon corridors and knocked on the heavy door of Snape's office.

"Enter," Snape drawled familiarly. Harry's stomach sunk when he saw Snape at his desk with the pensieve. Harry instinctively closed the door behind him. Snape dropped the last of his thoughts in the pensieve and replaced it on the shelf behind his desk. Harry stood in the middle of the room dumbly, his mind frantically trying not to think of what he did not want Snape to see.

Wordlessly, Snape faced him and drew his wand, and Harry followed suit, closing his eyes and trying to clear his mind… trying not to think… trying to think thoughts which were completely different to what Snape should not see…

"Be ready… one, two, three, Legilimens!"

Suddenly, images began to flicker across Harry's vision…

"The stairs!" cried Dawlish…

Harry saw him dash from Dumbledors office…

Harry threw a punch at Malfoy's face…

He saw the dark corridor.

The memories stopped flashing, and one became distinct…It was dark, but there was singing… "Under a tall tree I imagine I lye, and let the hours pass me by…"

Harry didn't know what this memory was. Had he already accidentally reversed it into Snape's mind?

But another voice entered the memory, somewhere out of sight, which Harry remembered… "Well Mr. Potter, are we ready to tell the truth today?"

That sickly voice sent waves of anger flooding through him and a sudden yell snapped him to his senses and back to Snape's office. He was on his knees on the floor, but Snape was not standing over him impatiently as usual. To Harry's shock, he was sitting on the floor against the shelves, a bottle or two of smashed potion jars on the floor around him. It looked as though he had been slammed against the wall, and Harry wondered if he had used an expelliarmus accidentally.

Snape, rubbing his head and shaking slightly, looked up sharply at Harry and a strange expression flickered over his face.

"How long?… How long Potter? Answer me!" he said harshly, getting to his feet, but not taking his eyes of Harrys. Harry was totally non-plussed. "I…I've been able to disarm since second year, you know that…" he said hoarsely as he got to his feet. "Don't act smart, Potter! That was no disarming charm, tell me! How long have you been able to use the cruciatus? And don't lie or I'll find out myself…" he said viciously, raising his wand. The impact of this information confused Harry even more. "I… the cruciatus!?" he repeated disbelievingly.

"Yes, Potter, how long have you-"

"I…I can't perform the cruciatus! I can't use unforgiveables, I'm only fifteen!" Harry burst out incredulously. Was Snape having him on? Was this his idea of a joke? Surely he didn't even have a sense of humor, let alone one that bad.

"You just performed, poor thought it was, the cruciatus curse. On me, Potter. That is NOT something one does accidentally." Snape said through gritted teeth, wand still raised. Harry stared, open mouthed, into Snape's cold black eyes. And it suddenly clicked.

"I…I didn't mean to… not on you… it was the memory, when I heard Umbridge, I was… I was so angry, and I…" Harry said quietly, trailing off. Had she affected him so badly that the curses she used were embedded in him… to the point where he may do something he might regret?

"It is just as I have said…" Snape growled as he leant on his desk, still breathing heavily, eyes piercing Harry coldly, "You have no control over your own thoughts and emotions. And you MUST control these if you are to harness your own strength, or you'll remain a danger to yourself and to others." Snape said coldly.

"W-what do you mean?" Harry said, non-plussed. Did Snape too know of his Lycanthropy? Was he talking about his temper, or his transformations? Harry was becoming increasingly worried about anyone finding out what she had done to him, especially knowing how Snape would treat him if he knew.

Snape however, looked impatient, but when he spoke as he sat at his desk, his voice was calm and cool. "Surely you would have realized by now Potter, that it is no accident that you have escaped death so often. Your first year, your second, third especially…have you not led a life so unlike any other student your age?" Snape said flatly, his lip curling as though in distaste of every word he himself uttered.

Harry sat heavily in the chair across from Snape. "Do you mean… the philosophers stone? That wasn't just me, if not for Ron and Hermione… most of it was luck, I-"

"Oh stop being noble Potter, it doesn't suit you." Snape spat, looking away from him momentarily. Harry scowled at Snape as he closed his eyes before snapping them sharply open to Harry again.

"Potter, you survived Quirell on your own when you were only eleven, you slew a Basilisk at twelve and at thirteen… I said it myself when I saw the patronus, that only a truly powerful wizard could have driven that many dementors away. Whether you want to act humble or not Potter, you have more power than you know, and if you don't learn to control it properly, you will not end up as 'lucky' as you have been previously."

Snape got to his feet, and Harry, trying to take in what Snape had said, followed suit reluctantly.

"Now concentrate Potter! You must not let your mind be penetrated so easily, get ready! One, two, three, Legilimens!"

Harry didn't have time to clear his mind, and the last thoughts upon it flickered in front of him…

A hundred Dementors swooping across the lake… the blinded Basilisk lunging… Quirell diving for him… then the memories returned to Umbridge's office. She smiled at him… he knew she was going to lead him to that werewolf… he couldn't let Snape see…

You want me to be strong Snape, fine… 

And suddenly there seemed a black barrier… there were no memories… but Harry could feel Snape probing, could hear him questioning, _what happened? Where is she leading him?_

Harry supplemented the memory, making Snape think he had been led away to be crucioed. And suddenly the memories returned… and Harry was hit with the cruciatus, but before he could feel the pain, the curse was lifted.

But his aching body was heaving with effort, covered with cold sweat as he found himself flat on his back.

"You took your time Potter. At least, however, you're finally trying." Snape said blandly, straightening his sleeve. "However, I did break through that barrier with rather laughable ease… and I tell you now Potter, you must still gain greater control than that, for the Dark Lord is far more advanced in this than-"

"Actually Sir, you didn't break through it…" Harry cut in hoarsely as he stumbled to his feet again. Snape was looking at him with a shrewd yet inquisitive expression, so Harry continued hastily, "I let you through…"

"You let me through? Now really Potter…"

"Yes sir, because I gave you a different memory. It was similar, but not the same one." Harry explained, still panting slightly. Snape stared shrewdly into Harry's eyes for a moment, as though to discern whether he was lying or not. But after a few seconds, he blinked and an odd flash crossed his dark eyes. "Well-well Potter, that is better progress than I would have expected… once more I think, to test your endurance. One, two, three…"

But at the moment Snape went to raise his wand, Snape's office door banged open and Draco Malfoy sped in. "Professor Snape, sir-oh –sorry-"

Malfoy was looking at Snape and Harry in some surprise.

"It's alright, Draco." Said Snape, "Potter is here for a little remedial potions."

Harry had not seen Malfoy look so gleeful since Umbridge had turned up to inspect Hagrid. "I didn't know," he said, leering at Harry, who knew his face was burning. He would have given a great deal to shout the truth at Malfoy- or even better, to hit him with a good curse.

"Well, Draco, what is it?" Asked Snape.

"It's Professor Umbridge, sir- she needs your help," said Malfoy. "They've found Montague, sir, he's turned up jammed inside a toilet on the forth floor."

"How did he get in there?" Demanded Snape.

"I don't know, sir, he's a bit confused."

"Very well, very well. Potter," said Snape, "we shall resume this tomorrow evening."

* * *

Harry was extremely grateful for a detention free weekend. He slept through most of it, to shut out the residual pain. But when he wasn't at meals or resting, he caught up on most of his workload.

Come Monday however, he had Defense against the Dark Arts and Divination in the morning. Which did little to lift his spirits. Ron and Hermione seemed even more apprehensive than Harry that morning though, as he caught them glancing anxiously at him several times. When they arrived at the class however, they got rather a surprise to see, upon walking into the room, that it was Snape sitting at the teacher's desk. His lip curled when he saw them, and Harry's stomach dropped. Snape looked away quickly, remembering to pretend Harry wasn't there.

Harry took a seat with Ron and Hermione at the back of the class. They both looked more relieved to have Snape as their teacher rather than Umbridge. Harry of course, had not told them anything about what he saw in that pensieve, and he had forced it to the back of his mind with work so he wouldn't have to think about the thing which was bothering him most.

No, I don't have time for this now, Harry thought, and he tried to concentrate on the page number they were set to read, which was dictated on the board in Snape's handwriting. Snape did not look up or speak at all. His presence was enough to discourage the class from making a sound.

There was at least ten minutes of silence before a knock at the door made the class jump. "Enter", said Snape lazily.

Harry's stomach sank lower to see Umbridge's face appear as the door was opened. Umbridge's toady little eyes rested coldly on Harry as she smiled a sickly expression at the class.

"Anything I can do for you, Professor?" Snape asked flatly. "Yes, I wondered if I might borrow Mr. Potter for a quick word." Umbridge simpered in more of an order than a request. With a short, sharp glance at Harry, Snape replied "Perfectly alright with me, headmistress." There was a strange vindictive note in his voice when he said this, and Harry knew Snape was hoping Umbridge would punish him. That this would be his revenge.

Harry got up and left the class, not looking at Snape or anyone else. Umbridge closed the door behind him. "Come with me Potter, don't dawdle!" She sang excitedly. Harry's long strides were enough to follow her stubby legged trotting as she led him up to her office.

Once she led him in, she shut the door hastily behind them, and Harry heard the lock click ominously. Umbridge bustled over and forced him into a chair. There she stood over him, her beady little eyes glaring over a toady smile.

"Would you mind telling me, Mr. Potter, what this is?" She said softly and sickly, holding up a piece of parchment in her hand. It looked like a letter. "Err… a letter?" Harry replied, trying to keep his voice even, wondering what she was getting at. "Yes, Mr. Potter, I can see that. But have you any idea who sent it?" she said pressingly, her sweet tone thinning. Harry shrugged. He had absolutely no idea what relevance this had to him. She moved around her desk, still talking, "Funny, Mr. Potter, that you have still not learnt that you cannot lie to me. Now, I KNOW that you pressured other students into sending this letter to me. I know that you have grown tired of our lessons," she said, her voice getting higher as she leaned on her desk, stubby fingers splayed, her toady face getting closer to his. "…But believe me, Potter, it isn't that easy to fool me. I am just becoming tired by your manipulation of others. But this will stop NOW." She said, straightening. There was an all too familiar look in her eyes.

"Professor… what did this letter say?" Harry asked quickly to stall the inevitable. She narrowed her eyes. "So you didn't conduct them on the contents? Very well. The students in question whom you forced into this unfortunate affair wrote to beg me to stop or face the consequences. They told me to stop, what they call (she gave a small laugh) 'torturing' you, or they would make me regret it. At least, words to that effect. By any means, Mr. Potter, another lesson to discourage anything like this again. Because I tell you now, it will certainly not help you," she leant further forward, "I will not hesitate to BREAK you if you step out of line again." She breathed quietly. She stood up straight again and fixed a falsely grim smile on her face. "Now, you know what you will get for this. Stand up, Mr. Potter."

Harry stood, his face blank. He had not protested the accusation because he knew it would do him no good. She was going to punish him for something he didn't do, and by now he was used to this. But to his dismay, the letter had not helped him as the writer had intended, but only defeated his resistance to Umbridge by making her think she was getting to him. The fact that she was pinning him with it was probably a form of self-flattery. As though she were really doing a good job on him.

Harry stood in the middle of the office as she told him. But somehow, he could not stir any more anger towards Umbridge. He felt strangely numb to the situation. He became somewhat uneasy to realize that he was not enraged like he normally would be at the injustice of the situation.

Umbridge pointed her wand at him, a broadening smile on her flabby face.

"Crucio!"

The pain that hit Harry winded him, and he made no sound as the agony forced him to his knees. The pain spreading, it seemed, from his chest outward, like some deadly poison.

The curse was lifted, but the intensity of the pain lingered for a few seconds. He was on his knees, shaking. He retched. But wiping vomit from his mouth, he got himself to his feet. Umbridge cleaned the vomit with a wave of her wand, and then pointed it straight back at Harry.

"Crucio!"

With a sharp breath, Harry's screams filled the room. It continued over as it had the first time for five curses, by which time the pain did not leave Harry's stomach. Umbridge grabbed Harry's arm and dragged him out of the office as he stumbled on shaking legs. Although Harry's body was screaming for an escape from the pain, he managed to compose himself somewhat by the time they reached the classroom again. His sleeve was damp from wiping sweat and vomit from his face.

Umbridge did not bother knocking this time, but simply opened it and pushed Harry in. Everyone's eyes were on him as he walked stiffly back to his desk. They all noticed how shaken he was, despite how he tried to hide the effect the extra pain had had on him.

"I'm glad we had this little chat Mr. Potter. I shall see you again in detention tonight then." Umbridge sang ecstatically, and she nodded to Snape and left. Snape merely smirked in grim satisfaction, throwing Harry a piercing look of one who had gotten the revenge they craved. Harry, though he would normally be furious at Snape for this, was instead still troubled by how numb and empty he was emotionally. All he could feel for everything around him was his pain, unrelenting as it was.

Ron and Hermione could only shoot him anxious glances and glare at Snape all lesson, for which Harry was at least somewhat thankful. Snape's being there meant he did not have to divulge anything to them immediately. But it was unfortunate that he could not hide how ill affected by the torture he was.

His hand shook so badly and uncontrollably that he could not steady it even to take down notes from Hermione's book. Laying down his quill, Harry ran a hand through his hair, wishing at least for his scar to stop prickling, yet knowing it would not… COULD not…

Harry looked up to see Snape's scrutinizing gaze, which flickered away instantly. Though this didn't stop his scar giving off a painful throb.

* * *

That night, after Umbridge cursing him twice more, she told him to return again every night that week for detention. Without giving any further reason for this, she shoved him out of her office.

As usual, Harry stumbled up to Gryffindor tower. He wheezed the password to the fat lady and entered into a still occupied common room. Most of the occupants shot him anxious glances and whispered fervently with each other, but Harry merely made a b-line for the desk that Ron and Hermione were sitting at. He sat heavily in the chair beside Hermione and wearily got out his homework.

"I thought I ought to tell you Harry…" Hermione whispered to him as he opened his book, as though she'd been waiting for a chance to tell him all day. "…Since Ron told me about… your condition… I looked into the… the potion, the one Lupin takes. I managed to find a recipe, it's almost ready. So this Sunday, try and make it to Myrtle's bathroom after dinner, or detention if she gives you more," Hermione trailed off darkly.

Harry nodded, grinning. "I don't know how I'd survive this year without you." He muttered gratefully in response. Hermione gave him a small sad smile in return. "I just pray you will survive this year," she said, her voice wavering as she looked at him with shinning eyes, "I mean, I pray that every year, but especially now…"

Harry's face fell, but he placed his hand around hers, which held an uncontrollably quivering quill. "Hey, don't you worry about that. I'll last the rest of the year; it's not too long to go now. Don't you let worrying get in the way of your full OWLs." Harry said with what he hoped was a reassuring grin. She smiled waterily back and they resumed their work.

To Harry's surprise, Umbridge did not give him any weekend detentions, though he had enough OWLs homework to deal with by any means.

So on Sunday night, after a decent dinner, He, Ron and Hermione made their way inconspicuously to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.

Harry was glad to find, when he entered, that Moaning Myrtle was not there. Seeing the relief on Harry and Ron's faces, Hermione explained. "I convinced her she could make friends with other ghosts if she just stopped wailing about her own tragedies and started listening to what they'd been through and tried sympathizing." She said brightly as she pushed open the end cubicle door.

As she had in their second year, she was brewing the potion in a cauldron sitting on the toilet seat above a magical fire in the ceramic toilet bowl. It still seemed wrong to Harry, but he was too grateful to care how she had brewed the wolfsbane. It had obviously been complex.

Hermione was kneeling by the toilet, scooping a ladle-full of potion into a beaker while Harry and Ron stood watching apprehensively, listening to Hermione as she rambled on about the potion.

"…I mean, I knew the wolfsbane was complex, but it's worse than polyjuice! All those lessons I took toilet breaks were because I had to check on this. The essence of Griffon bile had to be kept at a certain temperature, and the beetlejuice had to be dropped in at half hour intervals. And then even FINDING the dragon eye distillation was-"

"I really appreciate what you've done for me here Hermione, but if you keep telling me what's in it I might not be able to stomach it so well…" Harry cut in, trying not to think of all the things she had just named. "Oh, yeah, sorry… well it's half Wolfsbane plant anyway. Here you are…" she replied, handing him the beaker.

Harry looked warily into the tea-coloured substance. Ron took a whiff of it and recoiled. "You sure this stuff actually helps?" He asked Hermione doubtfully. "Of course I'm sure, I made it exactly as it should be. It won't taste good, but it's better than ripping yourself to shreds." Hermione replied, her face a little taught with anxiety.

"Or someone else for that matter… oh well, cheers eh?" Harry replied, pinching his nose and sculling the pungent potion quickly.

He remembered the look on Lupins face as he had taken Wolfsbane, and suddenly quite understood as his taste buds protested against the unbelievably bitter onslaught of liquid. But Harry forced himself not to choke and quickly emptied the beaker. He gladly took the glass from his lips and screwed up his face as he swallowed the residual taste from his mouth. "Nasty Eh?" Ron asked bracingly. But Harry didn't answer.

Something wasn't right… it was effecting him… was it supposed to do that?

Harry's stomach lurched queasily for a moment, and then all of a sudden, he was doubling over from severe pains in the stomach. "Harry! Are you all right? What's going on?" Hermione started in bewilderment. "You stuffed the potion up Hermione! You've poisoned him!" Ron snapped angrily. "No I haven't! Go and get McGonnagal, quick! And make sure Umbridge doesn't turn up here too!" Hermione barked. With a quick anxious glance at Harry, Ron bolted from the toilets.

Harry was now on his knees, grasping his agonized chest and breathing heavily. Shivers were passing along his spine now and the increasing pain was spreading, seemingly, along his bones…

He suddenly realized what was happening. "Harry! Harry, what's wrong? What hurts?-"

"Hermione…" Harry gasped, "Run!"

But that was all he could manage before his body spasmed, and he felt the familiar sensation of breaking, grinding bones as he began to transform. Hermione sprang back in horror, yet watched, immobile with wonder and terror, as Harry began to change…

His face began to distort, his nose lengthened, pulling his jaws out with it. His hair lengthened, not just from his head and around his neck like a mane, but on his arms, a shinning grey pelt grew, fading to black on his hands, where his fingers curled and his nails became sharp. She saw, horrified, his ears become stretched, pointed, and covered with velvety black fur. From somewhere under the clothes which he was starting to tear out of, she glimpsed a long skinny appendage, which, as hair grew out, she saw was actually a bushy black tail.

And then, suddenly, curled before her in the rags of robes and a uniform, was a huge beast of grey and black stormy fur and shinning teeth and claws. It was Harry, but it was a wolf…

Suddenly, it sprang up to its feet, taking heaving breaths. It's head whipped around and it fixed its amber, slit pupiled eyes on her, opening its jaws in a snarl, flashing deadly ivory fangs. With a sudden small squeak of terror, Hermione backed into the cubicle behind her and slammed the door, locking it just as it was shaken by a great something hitting it. Harry had pounced for her. Her heart pounded painfully as it shook the door with another lunge against its thick planks.

Hermione, above everything else, could not get over the shock. It was Harry, but it couldn't be further from being Harry if it tried…

'IT', Hermione thought… that isn't Harry anymore, just 'IT'. The thought stabbed her heart painfully as the door was shaken by another blow. She had been over the scenario in her head before… had thought she could handle Harry changing into something like Lupin every month… she couldn't be biased, it was still the same Harry, it wasn't his fault… she was smart enough to handle any out of hand situation like this, she had thought. But she stood trembling helplessly as she heard the beast scratch frantically at the door. She prayed the lock would hold.

Suddenly, the creature's jaws appeared under the door, snarling, teeth gnashing, and accompanied by a paw and sharp claws swiping through the sizeable gap. Hermione squealed again involuntarily and scampered backwards. She took the bubbling cauldron off the toilet seat, set it on the tiles and jumped onto the seat. The werewolf Harry continued scratching and snarling under the door, nostrils flaring with the scent of its prey. Hermione shakily drew her wand from her robes, fumbling. She put out the fire in the toilet, then, hesitantly; she pointed it at the gap where the werewolf was getting through. "I'm sorry," She muttered shakily, before she used a stinging hex.

The wolf recoiled with a yelp and whimper before growling viciously and leaping at the door again. Only this time it leapt upwards.

Hermione let out a short scream as the paws heaved the creature up to try and climb over the door. Her wand still pointed at it, Hermione blurted out a repellent charm to keep Harry from the door, but so she wouldn't hurt him…

The werewolf slipped from the now untouchable door with a flump and a growl. Hermione crouched on top of the toilet, her heart thumping loudly and her breathing sharp and fast. She trembled as she heard the Werewolf trying to get over and under the door, recoiling as it failed to find a way. She heard it yelp a few times and was confused… her charm shouldn't be hurting him…

It's snarling grew to a thunderous pitch of excitement as it discovered a new front of attack. Hermione groaned as she heard it move into the cubicle alongside hers, watching it's shadow under the dividing wall. Hermione pointed her wand at the wall and muttered a frantic spell. The wall stretched magically to fill the gap beneath and add height to the top. It was roughly eight or nine feet high now. But the sound of the wolf came to her as it scrambled up onto the other toilet. She heard its claws on the ceramic as it leapt upwards, scratching threateningly down the wall as it fell back down again. It growled loudly, then yelped, not moving for a moment before resuming it's attempt. Hermione saw its paws as they tried and failed to get a grasp over the top of the high wall. They were covered in blood.

Harry had attacked himself, driven by his instinct and failed attack on her. The memory came back to Hermione of Lupin explaining how he had done it when separated from humans to bite. Hermione tried to put a repelling charm on the wall, but her hand shook so badly… and her voice would not work…

If she cast that spell, Harry's attack would turn wholeheartedly on himself. Hermione couldn't bear the thought of him enduring those wounds again. She would only have to hope and pray he couldn't get over the wall… but he must keep trying…

Hermione cowered on the toilet as she heard the wolf leap several more times, attempting relentlessly to get a good grip. Hermione heard him whine loudly and pause its onslaught. She shook with despair.

Then suddenly, she heard it scramble… and then she looked up as she saw, with horror, it's paws gripping the top of the wall, claws finding purchase in all the gouges it had so far scratched into the thick wood. It snarled in triumph as it scrambled with claws to heave itself over the partition. Hermione let out a whimper, tears leaking from her eyes as she watched it's head and forearms appear. Its mouth was bloody, its legs scratched and bitten, shoulders heaving, hackles raised. Hermione lifted her wand, still debating whether or not to stun him… what would the fall do if he hit his head on the other toilet? But what would she do if he came down on her and ripped out her throat before she could do anything?

It got its hind legs up on top of the wall, and was ready to drop down into the cubicle, when it's growling ceased suddenly. It seemed to get dizzy. It lost its balance and slid from the wall, claws scraping down the other side as the amber eyes disappeared from view.

Hermione was gasping, fiddling with the lock on the door as she heard the last pitiful whine.

She blasted the untouchable door open with her wand and bolted out to see him. She flung open the door of the next cubicle to se him lying on the floor, half naked and covered in blood and the tattered remnants of his uniform and trousers. He lay on the tiles, head down beside the toilet. He was holding his head and torso up on shaking arms, retching violently.

Hermione rushed in and dragged him up by the waist, her hands slipping on his blood. Once on his hands and knees, he was still vomiting uncontrollably. All Hermione could do was hold him up and wait for him to stop bringing up blood and bile. His diminished frame shook uncontrollably with his rasping gulps of air when he finally stopped throwing up. Hermione managed to drag him up into a sitting position against the wall. He gasped desperately for breath, his voice rasping as he tried to speak, "I'm sorry… I'm so sorry… oh god… oh god Hermione…I…"

"Shhh, Harry, it's… it's alright… don't talk, breath, rest it's ok, it wasn't your fault," Hermione muttered shakily, tears leaking down her face uncontrollably from the shock and fear still coursing through her. Hermione took off her robes and draped them over Harry as he shivered uncontrollably. His wounds bleeding fresh and strong, staining the material instantly. Hermione heard someone bursting into the toilets and looked around the corner of the cubicle to see Ron and McGonagall, who was looking quite flustered.

But when she saw Harry, all the colour drained from her face. Ron dropped down weakly at Harry's side. "What?… What on earth happened?" Mc Gonagall breathed, dumbfounded. "I… I don't understand. I brewed the potion correctly, I swear professor. I don't know what went wrong but… he… something in the potion must have triggered it, I don't know how… he transformed, and…"

"What on earth are you talking about Miss Granger?" Mc Gonagall cut in impatiently. "You weren't supposed to know…" Harry croaked weakly.

"Professor Umbridge got him bitten by a werewolf." Ron spat bitterly, his face hardened by anger at the thought. It seemed to take McGonagall a few moments to process this clearly. "If she… finds out you know… she said you mustn't be told… I'll be back in the dungeons…" Harry rasped weakly, seemingly already resigned that this would now be his fate.

"Not if I can help it Potter… now what EXACTLY happened miss Granger? What potion did you make for him to take?" Mc Gonagall asked sternly, if not a little shakily. "The Wolfsbane potion professor… I followed the instructions implicitly, I know I did, I… I don't know how this could have happened…"

"Are you telling me, Granger," Mc Gonagall cut in calmly and sharply, "…That you made this potion for Potter because Umbridge did not plan to give it to him, and that when he took it, he had a full transformation?" She asked somewhat disbelievingly. Hermione nodded weakly, "A full transformation with instincts unsuppressed… it wasn't his fault, he couldn't control what he was doing, I..." Hermione spluttered, unable to hold back more tears and shaky sobs. "What? This… this is most unnatural, I've never heard of it… a reaction to the Wolfsbane is not uncommon at first but never has it caused what it is designed to repress…" McGonagall trailed off, dumbfounded, most unbefitting for her. Her eyes snapped suddenly to Hermione's face in sharp realization. "What did you do to keep him from killing you?!" McGonagall asked in astonishment, apparently because Hermione was alive and without a scratch on her. Hermione attempted to calm herself in order to reply, wiping her eyes desperately.

She recounted to McGonagall and a somewhat flabbergasted Ron, what had happened when Harry had transformed. Harry drifted in and out of listening as pain flashed across his senses, the world beneath him still seeming to lurch slightly.

"I…I was frozen, sitting there, when it began to get on top of the wall... I tried to charm the wall, but I couldn't speak… I was afraid that if I stopped him getting in, he would turn on himself fully… but when he was over the wall, that's… that's when the potion wore off. He… he fell down the other side, into this cubicle, and when I got out of mine, I found him on the floor… he threw up an awful lot…" she said, paleing as she tried not to look at the pool in the corner that was already pungent on the air.

"We should move him out of here," Ron said weakly, trying not to touch the puddle he had only just realized was behind him. "It's ok… I'll get up… it's not serious…" Harry croaked as he struggled weakly to drag himself up. "Not serious! Potter this is deadly serious, this has not happened to any other werewolf victim on record…" Mc Gonagall exclaimed, exasperated, as Harry dragged himself to his feet, Hermione's bloodstained robes falling from his ragged, mauled torso. Ron and Hermione looked at him, stunned that he could even stand on his own. But when he tried to walk out of the cubicle, even supported by the wall, his shaking, bloody knees gave in. Ron had to catch him under the arms and help him walk to the sinks. Harry sunk irresistibly to the floor against the wall opposite the sink that held an old secret. Harry smiled slightly. Ron seemed distressed by this, possibly thinking he was cracking because of blood loss. "What's funny?" he asked anxiously.

"I wonder if I could trick Umbridge down there…" He nodded at the sink, "and lock her down in the chamber… that old basilisk would be a skeleton by now… still might scare her to death…" Harry mused. Ron's face relaxed. "Yeah, if only eh? Maybe she'd believe you for once if she saw it… I wouldn't mind seeing it, Ginny told me about it last year, she reckoned it was sixty feet, but I'm pretty sure she was exaggerating, I mean she was a midget when she saw it, she WOULD have thought it bigger than it was… not that I'm denying you killed it, but a twelve year old bespectacled half-pint doesn't survive a sixty foot basilisk…"

"Somehow, I don't think she would believe it even if she was down there, which by any means I doubt she would ever be. Not that I would protest to you leading her there Potter, but I'd be worried about you getting out again. However, back to the task at hand, is treating your injuries Potter. And investigating the cause of this reaction." McGonagall said with some contemplation. "How will we get him back to Gryffindor tower without anyone seeing?" Hermione said worriedly. McGonagall's eyebrows shot up. "Gryffindor tower? Miss Granger, he needs the hospital wing, not simple bed rest, you of all people have seen enough to know-"

"Professor, I can't…" Harry cut in weakly. McGonagall started slightly, staring at him. "What are you talking about Potter, you have no choice but to-" "I can't professor… I was banned, didn't she warn anyone? … She strictly forbids that Madame Pomfrey give me any treatment or know anything of my condition or injuries. You know what she'll do if she finds out…"

"WHAT!? She did what!?" McGonagall burst out incredulously, her lips thinning. Hermione jumped at her reaction. "Professor! Please, if someone hears…" she half whispered in fright. Undeterred, McGonagall checked her voice, though her nostrils were flaring. "This!… This is outrageous! How dare she, after what she has already done to… how DARE she!" McGonagall fumed in a tense whisper, almost to herself. She took a deep steadying breath before turning her eyes, now filled with anxiety, upon Harry. It was usually hard to decipher McGonagall's thoughts and emotions, but Harry could see plainly that she was wishing she had not left him alone that night Dumbledor left.

It wasn't your fault, Harry replied silently through his eyes, she would have found a way after to get me to that dungeon…

McGonagall turned away. She had to think. But it was so hard with the sight of Potters eyes still fresh in her mind. She did not remember having seen more pain in a person before now, not before seeing those familiar yet sharply, painfully haunted emerald eyes looking into her. Trying to convince her she had done nothing wrong. She closed her eyes, hoping to clear the thought and anguish from her mind… she hated how helpless those eyes made her feel.

Focus on the task at hand, she thought to clear her head. Her eyes snapped open when she had the obvious solution.

"Potter, you do still own an invisibility cloak I presume?" McGonagall asked calmly, one eyebrow raised. The bleeding heap on the floor nodded with a slight, sad smile.

* * *

At breakfast the next day, Harry barely touched his porridge, but this was not for lack of hunger. He was contemplating all that had happened the previous day.

After getting up to Gryffindor tower under the cover of his invisibility cloak, assisted by Ron because he was too badly wounded and drained to walk on his own. McGonagall had pulled them into an empty classroom before leaving them to go to their dormitories. She had told Harry he was to go to Snapes classroom the next night at eight, under the pretense of detention, so they could do tests to find out why exactly Harry had reacted to the Wolfsbane potion the way he had.

Harry was not looking forward to this to say the least. But he was interrupted in his musings by the arrival of the Creevey brothers at the end of the table where he was sat with Ron and Hermione either side.

The Creeveys sat opposite him, both grinning in a triumphant way that suggested they were quite pleased with themselves and thinking Harry should be too. Harry looked up, slightly bemused. "Well, did we settle her out or what?" said Colin smugly. "Bet it was a shock to her, someone standing up about all this. She looks pretty grumpy today, so I'd say it can't be all bad a result, eh Harry?" Dennis piped cheerily, swapping an eager glance with his older brother. "Err… excuse me, but I don't really follow… what's supposed to have worked?" Harry said flatly, not much moved by their bright disposition. Colin raised his eyebrows as if it was supposed to be obvious. "The letter of course! Did we set HER straight or what!" he said jauntily. Harry's face seemed to sap their confidence within seconds, the effect of which looked quite remarkable. His features were taught, as though he were silently enduring great pain, his eyes becoming piercingly cold. "That…that was you?" he said tensely, seeming to restrain himself from something. "Yea, of course… why? Did it not work?" asked Colin, disappointment slackening his features. "We can write another one! We can send her a parcel of dung and label it from the ministry!…" Dennis said eagerly.

"NO!" Harry exclaimed, louder than he intended. Colin and Dennis stared at him in shock and Ron and Hermione glanced at him nervously. A few people had looked around, but Harry tried to calm his racing heart and rapid breathing. "…No, it's…it's ok… listen, she got the message… it's fine guys, really… just don't write her anything else, it's… it's all sorted." Harry said calmly, checking his voice and trying very hard to look appreciative. Colin and Dennis perked up again. "No problem, if you ever need us again Harry, we're always glad to help." Colin said smoothly, and he and Dennis left looking quite elated.

Harry watched them go, his expression stony. He glanced at the high table automatically to see a smug faced Umbridge staring at him through narrowed eyes. Harry quickly looked away at his half-eaten porridge.

"Why didn't you tell them!?" Ron said incredulously. "Tell them what?" Harry said flatly, not looking up.

"You know what…"

"They don't need to know." Harry said shortly, slopping his porridge unenthusiastically with his spoon.

"Why are you doing this Harry?" Ron said, exasperated... Harry looked up at him sharply. "Doing what? If I had told them she blamed me for that letter they would only try more desperate and dangerous stunts to get to her, all of which she would blame me for anyway. What would I achieve in making them feel guilty?"

"A little retribution maybe, for what you copped for their stupidity?" Ron answered savagely.

"I don't work that way, you know that, and it wasn't stupid, I know they were just trying to help,"

"That's not the point, Harry. Y'know, maybe you should start working that way sometimes. It might not be noble, but for god's sake you deserve a little piece of mind for what you've been put through for the sake of every-bloody-one else." Ron said desperately, his eyes blazing with deep anxiety.

Harry looked away, shamefully unable to suppress the part of him which silently agreed with Ron.

"You don't have to do this alone Harry… If you just tell us what's wrong you know we'll help all we can…" Hermione started softly. "Do what? I'm not doing anything alone, it's what Umbridge is doing to me, and yes, I have to 'do' that alone because her fight is with me, and I don't want either of you copping it from her because of me. It's nothing you two need to worry about, I'll survive." Harry replied, trying to keep his voice even, continuing to slop his porridge distractedly.

"Why won't you just tell us what she's doing? Why can't you understand, we want to help make this easier, not harder for you…"

"You knowing what she does will not help either me or you, trust me, you don't need that, it would only make the whole thing seem worse and I don't want you to worry more than you have to, PLEASE," he said emphatically as she opened her mouth to protest…" please…just… trust me on this one… you don't need to know… I'll survive." Harry finished heavily, still not looking up at either of them.

* * *

When Harry entered Snape's classroom that night, he was greeted by way of a glare and curled lip by the potions master, yet was surprised to find McGonagall there as well. "She won't be suspicious about where you are will she, professor?" Harry queried McGonagall. McGonagall waved a hand carelessly, "Give me some credit Potter, she believes I am assisting Professor Snape out of necessity for the making of a complex potion. And knowing our… history… that is not something to be suspected as a joke. Your excuse is that the Professor is having you assisting as your detention, which is also an assuredly credible alibi." She explained lazily, though not without a hint of cool pomposity.

Snape cleared his throat tersely, and the two turned their attention on him. He towered menacingly over his desk where he had lined up a series of small and large amounts of ingredients and some empty beakers. "Now, in order to isolate the cause of the reaction I have to break down a few of the ingredients of Wolfsbane known to be problematic at times. We will be testing each one in small doses until symptoms arise to indicate any one ingredient. If this does not work, then a series of combinations will be triled. Understood?" Snape said softly with an air of doubt. Harry and McGonagall nodded. Snape sneered slightly, not looking at Harry. "Of course, there are certain, safety measures, that must be taken in this situation, to assure that if a serious reaction occurs, there will be minimum damage to staff and subject…" Snape explained smoothly, and even though he was not looking at Harry, he could tell that these 'safety measures' would not be altogether agreeable. Snape raised his wand and muttered something. Harry suddenly found himself shackled by a collar and manacles and a chain that was bolted to the wall at one side of the classroom. Snape's lip curled indulgently at Harry's indignant expression and McGonagall scowled vaguely at Snape, who went about preparing the first ingredient. He talked about it as he went.

"The first ingredient I will give you Potter is the other main component that in base with wolfsbane is what makes the potion effectively suppress the werewolf's instinct. It is called Stagthorn and is derived from the plant of the same name. Alone, it does not placate a werewolf, but instead aggravates and heightens the effectiveness of it's killing instinct. However, while in Human form, it should have no effect on you… we shall see…" Snape brought him a beaker with no more than ten milliliters of the pale teal liquid extract. Harry took the beaker in a slightly shaking hand, the manacles clinking in an awfully reminiscent way. Snape would not look him straight in the eye as he took the beaker and sniffed the contents warily before downing the liquid.

It tasted of nothing at first, though Harry detected a slightly sweet aftertaste. He felt nothing for a moment, not really expecting a reaction, as Snape had predicted… but then he felt a kind of hot sensation tingling in his chest… it came on slight and slow…

"Well? Potter, do you feel anything?" McGonagall asked patiently.

The hot sensation swimming uncertainly in his chest suddenly spread to his whole body. His breath caught as every muscle in his body tensed. The beaker slipped from his stiffened shaking fingers and smashed. "Potter! What on earth, Severus do something!" McGonagall started in alarm. "No, let the symptoms come…" Snape said firmly, watching with shrewd anticipation. Harry stumbled forward, pulling on the chains to their greatest extent. There was a smell… it filled the room, it was filling his mind, driving him crazy… but he could not get to it's source. His tense, closed throat suddenly released a vicious growl that made McGonagall jump backwards and Snape retreat a little. It was not just the growl of a human voice; it was a full wolven snarl, bloodthirsty and terrible.

Then without warning the mad heat ceased coursing through his mind and body and his muscles all un-tensed quite suddenly. Harry fell rapidly to the stone floor, chains clattering, knees and hands cutting on the glass of the broken beaker and the extended iron collar choking him. McGonagall rushed forward and helped him to his feet, waving her wand at the cuts to expel the glass fragments and heal them. "Interesting…" was all that Snape had to say on the matter.

"And why is Potter losing control and growling like a maniac 'interesting'?" McGonagall said sadistically, turning on her heel to face Snape once Harry had recovered himself. He looked up at Snape a little bitterly as his chains clanked while he rubbed his sore bruised throat. Snape, looking at McGonagall, raised one thin eyebrow slightly. "It's very interesting, because in a normal werewolf, as I said-"

"How is being a werewolf ever normal?" Harry burst out testily without meaning to have spoken his mind. Snape narrowed his eyes, sneering, and continued. "…As I said, in human form the Stagthorn should have no effect. The fact that the ingredient triggered his wolf to overpower him suggests that he was either bitten by a werewolf of strength hitherto unknown- perhaps a freak of nature. Or, that the werewolf species is somehow adapting to the potion… or that Potter is just weak." He finished crisply, daring Harry to respond. Harry ground his teeth but bit back the urge to loose any residual 'instinct' on Snape. "I think we can rule out weakness, professor, I'm sure you'll agree he has proven himself quite resistant to bestial and mental attack." McGonagall said firmly, to which Snape sneered more pronouncedly in reply. "Well, we shall see… if that was the only ingredient causing the trouble, we may never know the reason. However, it does not account for all symptoms. It did not and probably could not induce a transformation. Wolfsbane, however…" Snape replied silkily, measuring out some of the ingredient liquid into another beaker. He swooped over and shoved it into Harry's hand before stepping away a safe distance. When he turned, his eyes met Harry's piercing gaze for a moment, and he flinched, before Harry broke the eye contact by tipping the small amount of foul liquid down quickly so as not to hurt himself on more broken glass. However in a moment, that would be the last of his worries.

He stood for no more than three seconds before the liquid affected him. A shock wave swept down his spine as unimaginable pain wrenched his stomach, just like before. He doubled over, eyes shut and face set with unbearable agony. Then the fire swept to his limbs and along his bones, causing him to stand rigid. But the pain forced him to his knees, where it seemed the world beneath him lurched as his body was broken and twisted and pulled, then crushed back together badly, before after an eternity of torture the pain faded within seconds.

The smell… the smell filled him again. His screwed up eyes sprang open, shinning gold. The slit pupils discerned two shapes which were the focus, the source. Without realizing, his body sprang into action, getting up off the floor and lunging headlong at the prey. But as soon as he had leapt, he was yanked back by some inexplicable source. Growling viciously, he realized it was the metal chain and cuffs around his neck and wrists. His human half sighed with relief, but the wolf pulled at them and shook the chains savagely, hopelessly. Extending them to their fullest extent, it reared, lashing out towards the two, still standing, still watching.

The instinctive need grew to such a pitch that it was necessary to attack something and smell blood before having a heart attack. He automatically sunk his snapping jaws into a nearby flailing foreleg. He shrank back, whining, in pain yet slightly placated by the warm, bittersweet blood in its mouth.

McGonagall watched in horror as Potter doubled over, but resisted getting any closer to help. And she was right to, because within seconds she witnessed the horrific transformation from the tall, skinny boy to the large silver-grey and black beast that could easily rip her to shreds. It reared up, straining at the bonds McGonagall now found her self thankful for. "It', she thought… now why does he suddenly turn to an 'It'? She noticed the look in Potters eyes; the now unrecogniseable golden slit pupils were dilated and wildly popping, fixed on hers almost hypnotically. She saw the wild instinct in them, that terrible intensity of pure predatory desire, it seemed so appaulingly desperate, and it made Minerva feel exhausted just to see it. She gasped slightly as the eye contact with Potter was suddenly broken by him sinking his teeth into his forearm. His instincts were affecting him so intensely that they had to be relieved by blood before they overloaded his body with adrenalin and caused a heart-attack Minerva understood this, she remembered Remus telling her about it once. She had never witnessed it though, never seen such a transformation, never understood the ferocity or the pain nor seen anyone, transformed or not, inflict such gruesome damage upon themselves. She had to look away from the blood that flowed over the silver fur of Harry's forearm. However his instincts were quickly abated, and he jumped suddenly at them once more, making even Snape jump back slightly.

Potter was significantly stronger in his muscular wolf form as he pulled against the restraining chains, though Snape did not look worried. In fact he was merely viewing the creature before him with mild disgust and interest. Minerva however began to worry about how long the transformation seemed to be lasting.

Potter kept backing off growling, and then jerking forward in violent lunges to be free. Snape began to frown shrewdly at this behaviour, and Minerva was about to ask him whether Potter should have changed back by now, when a sickening crunching noise rent the room. Minerva's head snapped around to see the bolt in the wall break away and Harry lunge at them with a loud snarl of triumph. All colour left Snape's already sallow face, yet in a split second his wand was up. McGonagall dived away from Harry's leap for them and did not see exactly what Snape did, but she glimpsed Harry flying across the room in suddenly the opposite direction of his pounce.

There was a loud clashing, clattering THUD as Harry hit the wall hard, the chains chinking loudly against the stone floor as Harry fell sprawled and immobile on the ground. McGonagall got up and looked at Snape, who was breathing hard, leaning back against a desk, eyes fixed on what she assumed was the werewolf. She heard it give a loud, pitiful whine, which trailed off to a soft moan of pain.

McGonagall rushed over to the broken heap on the floor, once again in torn rags of a uniform and robes. He was crumpled in a heap against the wall, which Snape had thrown him magically in defense. "Potter, are you alright? Is anything broken?" she said urgently. Harry drew a shaking, wheezy breath and whispered in desperate pain, "My ribs… my chest, is… tight… can't breath…"

Minerva tore open his already torn shirt to reveal his bruised chest. The inward breaks were even horribly visible in his emaciated state. McGonagall ran her wand over each break and mended it magically with sickening cracking sounds, as the bones were drawn back into place and back together. Harry's face contorted in pain as the ribs moved, but slackened to a slight exhausted grimace when she was done. Minerva had him stay still as she stretched out his bitten forearm gingerly to inspect the damage. It made her terribly nauseous, his flesh was pierced deeply and the arm was covered with pungent, free flowing blood. "Severus! We need a wound-healing potion, quickly! This bite is too serious for spell work." She said as she tried to stop the bleeding magically. She managed to lessen it, but the bite marks kept weeping despite her best healing charms. She was good at charms, but she was no expert at healing spells, she needed Poppy for that… but thanks to Dolores Umbridge, her dragging Harry up to the Hospital wing could get him and herself kicked out of the castle. Though she wondered if at the moment that was possibly their best option. Severus appeared suddenly and knelt beside her to assess the injury himself. He wore a very neutral expression, holding a large bottle of opaque yellow and purple swirled potion with the cork out in his other hand. As Severus doused a handkerchief in the potion, Minerva looked down into Harry's face. He was flat on his back staring up at the ceiling, though he wasn't really looking at it. It seemed as though he was mentally trying to escape his current position but was being dragged through the reality by the agony of the wounds that he forced himself not to react to. He closed his eyes tightly and his face twitched slightly as Severus held the soaking handkerchief to his bitten arm. His ability now to suppress the natural reactions to pain astounded McGonagall, but it made her wonder and worry just how badly his suffering could be and she would not know it… in fact no one would.

In Harry's mind, he could only bear it so well by comparing it to the cruciatus, and the searing fire of the potion on the wound came nowhere near the threshold of agony Harry knew all too well from the cruciatus. The pain began to abate, and Harry opened his eyes groggily. "Potter?" Harry heard a bland voice call. He blinked and looked over at his arm as Snape removed the handkerchief. There was a large bite mark on his arm, but the wounds had been sealed as red raw marks and partially healed by the burning potion. But Harry, while he knew how he must have gotten the injury, he did not remember what had just happened. Why was he lying on the floor with his chest and back aching and a strong smell of blood filling the air? Had he hurt someone? His breathing quickened and he tried to get up quickly, but a stabbing pain rent his chest, though he merely tried to ignore it. There was a mess of voices and a firm hand on his shoulder, and somewhere he heard McGonagall say "Potter, calm down, you'll hurt yourself!" He stopped moving, sitting up still, "I don't know if it would make much difference professor." He croaked absently. "It makes a difference to me Potter, now sit still!" McGonagall replied, shaken by his tone of voice. "No one's hurt are they?" he asked urgently. "Do you not remember your transformation Potter?" Snape drawled blandly with slight curiosity. "I…I know I did, but…" Harry breathed raggedly. He screwed up his eyes, trying to remember. He remembered taking the wolfsbane, the pain of transformation… but then…then… "I can't remember what happened when I was transformed…wait, I think…" Harry tried to concentrate harder. Eyes closed tightly, he tried to remember that feeling; that helplessness, sitting at the back of his mind, watching, doing, but not controlling…

He remembered screaming… screaming in fear and agony, a scream no one could hear, because it was drowned out by the growling. He saw Snape and McGonagall standing there, the same expression on both their faces. He horrified them… he called out for help, but he felt the beast lunge for blood, to attack. It was so angry, and he felt the rage of it wash over him, sickening and strangling. He felt fear for McGonagall and Snape, knowing this beasts rage and lust for their death. Yet he had been relieved for he couldn't get near them. But the rage was still in him, blinding him, building. He thought it would smother him, kill him… but instead it burst in pain along his arm and ebbed away slightly with the blood in a mix of agony and ecstasy that now sickened him at the thought of it. He had flashes of remembering. He had broken free, he didn't know how… then the image of Snape casting a spell at him burst clearly in his mind and his eyes snapped open.

"You could have used a body bind jinx." He croaked bitterly with a dirty look at Snape as he attempted to stand himself up. McGonagall held his arm to support him as he forced his shaking legs to bear his slight weight. Snape stood to, a sour look on his face. "I'm sure when faced with a lunging werewolf you to would have time to deliberate what spell would least hurt it, Potter." He replied stingingly, before turning on his heel and swooping back to his desk. Harry noticed him measuring more potion ingredients as McGonagall repaired his clothes with waves of her wand. She seemed to notice too as Snape straightened with a beaker containing a small amount of slightly smoking potion. "Surely there's nothing more to test Severus?" she said, stepping slightly in front of Harry as he glided back over to them. His cold black eyes flickered up at her. "Just one. It is vital we see the results of both main components together. If they have no effect we will have to rule them out and continue to try other smaller part ingredients. If they do affect him again in combination… well, I'm sure Potter has been through worse." Snape said coldly, a slight sneer on his lips, yet an odd expression in his eyes. Harry bit back a retort that involved him mentioning it being preferable to dangling from the ankles and having his underpants removed in front of a crowd of students, but he thought Snape might just do it instead. Instead he straightened up and did not flinch when Snape magically chained him again (This time with double the chains and wall bolts).

Harry took the beaker from Snape in his heavy manacled hand, neither of them looking at the other. Harry took a deep breath or two to clear his head before downing the tiny amount of potion. It was terribly bitter but Harry screwed up his face and forced himself to swallow, McGonagall snatching the empty glass from his hand even as it burnt down his throat. Harry opened his eyes and blinked a few times. He could feel a heartburn like sensation now, but other than that, it seemed not to affect him as fast as the straight ingredients. As the burning began to subside to a dull warmth in his stomach, Harry began to think that maybe Snape was correct about the combined ingredients ruling out their causing his transformation. Harry opened his mouth to say that he was sure they weren't the cause, but no words came out, because at that moment, a strange lurch in his chest gagged him. This lurch became an odd tense feeling, which moved down into him like a shiver down his spine. Then suddenly the tensity turned to agony as all his muscles contracted painfully. He went rigid, spine arching backwards, his throat too tight to speak or breathe or cry out in pain, as he would were it possible. He fell to his knees again. The excruciating pain was close enough to the cruciatus that Harry believed it would make him black out before lack of oxygen would. His limbs began to shake violently as his muscles spasmed, almost tearing themselves apart. Harry's throat was suddenly un-tensed and an unexpected, piercing scream sounded from him, echoing horribly off the stone walls. He did not, could not draw breath. His deafening scream trailed off as his lungs emptied. The bone breaking sensation was upon him again, he felt them snapping and cracking and crunching together. He knew his eyes were rolling but he could not see, could not hear or feel anything external. He was falling inside himself again, consumed by the wolf that now claimed his body as its own to use.

Harry felt anger, but not the wolf's anger, it was his own. He would not let this wolf of Umbridge overcome him so easily. He started fighting for control, trying to reach out and use whatever strength he had, whatever power he could muster to attack the wolf. He looked at his hands. They were gone, but he had claws, they would do. He saw the wolf's face, nose to nose with his, snarling at him. He made a swipe at it and got it across the right aide of its face. At the same time it got him the same blow and he yelped at the stinging, warm blood blurring his vision. He lunged at the wolf again, scratching at its body, biting it's fore and hind legs, scratching at it's throat, until he was bloody and exhausted and his limbs felt heavy and his aching mind and body slipped into darkness.

When he awoke, the wolf was gone, but the aching and stinging were worse. He groaned in pain, but his throat hurt so much it was barely inaudible. He became aware of people around him fretting about. He opened his bleary eyes, blinking blood out of them. He tried to lift a hand to wipe away the red forced tears, but his arm was agony to move. "Please, lie still Potter, your going to be alright, just lie still. Severus, the scratch on his face is still bleeding." McGonagall said, it seemed distantly, in a vice of forced calm. "I have to stop the bleeding from his leg first or he'll lose a lot more than is necessary. I doubt Umbridge will let us smuggle him out of the castle for a blood transfusion, no matter how much I suck up to her." Snape replied jerkily in an irritated manner. Harry could not see him, but he could feel a potion being sponged onto his aching left leg. He closed his eyes as McGonagall dabbed at his face with a handkerchief. He opened his mouth to thank her, but his throat refused to make a sound. "It's all right Potter, don't move, don't worry… just lay there until we've got you sorted out". McGonagall said, her voice definitely shaking this time. Harry did as he was told, mostly because he was in so much pain he had no choice, but as he lay he began to try and work out what had happened… he had transformed again… and it had been worse. He had however gained enough control to fight himself rather than try to eat McGonagall and Snape. How he had done this now, yet not been able to when he had changed in Hermiones presence, he did not know…

Harry yelped slightly as a potion was dabbed on his slashed face. Involuntary tears leaked out of his eyes from the stinging, but he felt the wounds cool and heal. He lay still for a few minutes more before Snape seemed satisfied that he had stopped Harry's bleeding sufficiently. McGonagall helped him to sit up, but his head swam and he had to lean against the nearby desk leg. Suddenly a beaker of potion was shoved at his lips and he had it tipped down his throat before he even realized what was going on. "That should help him regain the lost blood in sufficient time", Snape seemed to say blandly to McGonagall from further away than he was. Harry felt McGonagalls hand squeeze his shoulder slightly. "Are you alright Potter?" she asked gently. He had not heard her speak like this since she had announced Ginny had been taken into the Chamber of Secrets. Harry blinked the blurriness out of his eyes and focused them on her anxious face. "Yea… I'm ok…" he said groggily, exhausted. But no sooner than the words had left his mouth, he felt a sick, lurching sensation in his stomach. Heaving slightly, he lent to his right, supporting himself on the table leg, and as a wave of pain clenched his insides he retched violently. "Potter!?" he heard McGonagall say with some alarm and concern. "It is part of the reaction." Snape replied deftly. Harry's vomiting abated and he managed to hear McGonagall reply, "What do you mean? What is the matter with him Severus?"

Harry wiped his mouth and turned his swimming head to look at Snape. Snape was not looking at them, but packing away his potions. "I can only conclude from this that he is, for some unfathomable reason, allergic to both Stagthorn and, most viciously, Wolfsbane. His body, or perhaps the wolf venom, is rejecting both ingredients, in an extremely violent manner I might add. In short, he is and always will be a danger to everyone around him." Snape said listlessly, and though continuing not to look at them, Harry saw his lip curl at his last few words. "Now really Severus. That's a tad over dramatic for you. You know perfectly well the precautions that can easily be undertaken in the situation of a Lycanthropic student who cannot take the

Wolfsbane-"

"You think such precautions are fool-proof? They certainly WON'T be easily undertaken with Dolores Umbridge around." Said Snape snappily, looking up at McGonagall piercingly. "Umbridge will make sure I'm only a danger to myself if she wants to keep her job." Harry croaked bemusedly. Snapes eyes flickered automatically to his, boring into him with some surprise before he remembered to glare and turn away. "I'm afraid you're right there, Potter." sniffed McGonagall, vanishing the pool of foul smelling vomit with another wave of her wand.


	2. Chapter 2

_Ok, so i decided it was dumb to keep adding parts to the one chapter seeing as you don't get alerts on it, so from now on i post the new bits as chapters. Cept im lazy and the chapters dont have different names XD Im sure you can forgive me._

_Anywho, things really get quite juicy here, but if you think this is nuts, you just WAIT for the next bit, it might just make your head explode._

_And MAN wasn't the 5th movie good? dear GOD it was so awesome i just want to see it again and again and again... can you guess why? Yeees, thats right, i use it to envision all the stuff going on in this fic X3 Umbridge is almost as evil in the movie as she is in this fic... almost. But the Harry angst was awesome... _

_my fave scene was the possession scene. So much of the changes made in the 5th movie were an improvement on the book it outweighs the minuses... like the way they killed sirius, that was a bit of a letdown, but oh well. Nevermind. It's still the most winnage movie ever. _

_See the movie... then read the fanfic, it works better :) Hope you like it, caus ima keep typin it, no matter how cold my fingerips get! (cause im in aus and it's the middle of quite a cold winter)_

_and after people have read and reviewed this, i will send all my reviewers, new and old, a snippet of the next chapter ;p _

_  
Death Out._

* * *

"So… there's no getting past it then? You're allergic to Wolfsbane so you have to endure normal Werewolf transformations…" Hermione repeated back to Harry, re-affirming all he had told them. 

They were alone in the common room; it was 1:00am the day after Snape and McGonagall had tested Harry.

Harry sat, pale and exhausted in an armchair by the fire, trying to ward off the aftermath of another detention with Umbridge. This was the first chance he had had to tell them the results of the previous night.

Ron let off a string of swear words in conjunction with Umbridge's name. "…And this is all HER fault, that evil, ugly old saggy bi-"

"Yes Ron, it's Umbridge's fault Harry is cursed, we know that…" Hermione talked over him tersely, "But somehow I don't think she knew Harry would for some reason turn out allergic to Wolfsbane. I wonder _why_ that is though…"

"Snape said something about the wolf venom rejecting the two important ingredients…" Harry said vaguely, rubbing at the tired shadows under his eyes.

"What are you going to do this full moon then? It's in five days." Hermione asked anxiously.

"Most likely Umbridge is going to lock me in the classroom and let me at myself again like the last… the first time." Harry replied listlessly with a sigh.

Sure enough, on Monday, Umbridge held Harry back after class to tell him he was to see her after class on the coming Thursday.

As Harry made his way down to dinner after this class with Ron and Hermione, they came across McGonagall on the third floor, and for some reason, she looked around nervously before ushering them into an empty classroom. She closed the door and put some sort of charm on it, then turned back to them and extracted a piece of parchment from her pocket.

"Mr. Potter, I have been in contact with Remus Lupin, and while it may not help you this full moon, I think it is worth you three having the information…" She said quietly, handing them the parchment. It was in her own writing and seemed to be notes on a spell.

"This charm is a new one, only invented recently… it is very difficult, and can only be performed by two or more casters. It returns a Lycanthrope their control for only about an hour. It isn't much, but it may be useful at some point… understand? I want you two to practice it." She said to Ron and Hermione, who nodded apprehensively, looking the paper over.

"Are you alright Potter?" McGonagall asked Harry gently.

"Yeah, I'm…fine…" Harry replied dodgedly, trying to look less tired, but the truth was he just wanted to sleep for a few days. His body ached and stomach churned. He would not get any dinner because Umbridge had given him a ban on food for a week for not answering a question in class, in what she had called 'an act of defiance against institution and learning'. He was hardly eating before for the sake of pain and throwing up after the cruciatus, but now he was reaching a state of malnutrition that was truly scary. He was reminded of Voldemort's skeletal form every time he looked in a mirror now, and a burning hate for both Voldemort and Umbridge seared his empty insides at the thought of it. Of course he didn't let on about this to anyone else, except Ron, who had been very un-easy when Harry mentioned his own resemblance now to the Dark's Lord appearance. The only thing stopping Harry's body from shutting down were the Nutritional substitute potions Hermione was smuggling him. She had told him she remembered Mr. Weasley talking about having to take them the first night of being in the hospital. They gave them to patients who for some reason or other couldn't eat solid food. They were fairly tasteless, but all the same, they kept him functioning physically, and so he was grateful.

Ron and Hermione did indeed practice as McGonagall had suggested. They seemed in a hurry to learn before the next full moon, though Harry told them it probably wouldn't be necessary. Hermione insisted for 'just in case' reasons, and Ron did not complain about the extra work. Of course, they had no way of testing the spell, so until they were faced with a situation, they wouldn't know if they could do it.

On the day of full moon, Harry found himself struggling with irritating effects of his new condition. He felt the wolf in him, like something trapped inside, itching to get out. He was unusually irritable and snappy and ended up back-chatting Umbridge over something in class.

She said nothing to Harry, but merely smiled and told him to go to the charms room after class, alone. Harry did so. He was so angry at Umbridge he didn't notice Ron and Hermione trailing him down to the charms corridor. Harry went into the room, expecting it to be empty, but instead he came across professor Flitwick. Harry stopped abruptly, his surly expression changed to one of surprise. Flitwick looked up at him with a similar expression, before it changed into one of slight concern. "Mr. Potter! Did you…want something?" He asked with surprise and some concern.

"I…no, I…was just told to come here by Umbridge, I didn't, err, know… think anyone was going to be in here." Harry responded blankly.

"Oh, I see. I was just picking up some books I left, otherwise I wouldn't be here… but, Umbridge asked you to come here? Whatever for?" Flitwick asked him with suspicion, directed at Umbridge's intentions rather than Harry's. Harry shrugged, "Well, I sort of…back-chatted her, so…"

At that moment, the door opened and Ron and Hermione entered.

"Whatever she's going to do Harry, we won't let her, it's not your fault, she should understand, after all, she's the one who…" Hermione's babbling ended abruptly when she saw Flitwick. "Oh… professor…uh…we…" for the first time in a long time, Hermione was speechless, but Harry was not… in fact quite the opposite with the influence of the moon. "You two can't hang around, Umbridge will punish you and you haven't done anything. Go, before she comes, i'm fine, I don't need help." Harry said angrily, panicking a little.

"What on earth are you three talking about?" Flitwick piped up, a little irritated.

"Umbridge told me to come alone, I don't want you two in trouble!" Harry continued in a strained voice, ignoring Flitwick.

"She's coming!" said Ron suddenly, who had been at the door.

"Professor! Come on, hide!" Hermione said suddenly, pulling Flitwick and Ron into a cupboard and closing the door to leave a slight gap through which they could see a little.

Harry had not expected them to do that… he was so shocked he barely had time to stress and look back to the door before Umbridge entered. He tried to neutralize his expression. Umbridge smiled nastily and said "Good. Wait here a moment longer Potter…" before she went out again and he heard her talking to Filch.

Harry knew what was coming… there was no way out of this situation, but he had to make sure the others wouldn't get involved and get hurt. He quickly sidled over to the cupboard and whispered to the others. "_DON'T _come out, I don't want you involved, _PROMISE ME!_" he said hurriedly, looking at one of Hermione's visibly shinning brown eyes. Grudgingly, she and the others said a confused 'OK' and Harry moved back into the middle of the room expectantly as Umbridge re-entered. Still with her wicked smile firmly in place, she closed the door and cast a silencing charm on the room. She shook her finger and shook her flabby head at him, clicking her tongue disapprovingly. "Mr. Potter, what am I to do? Will you _never_ learn to control yourself or your tongue?" She said sweetly, though her voice was lined with venom.

"Considering it was due toy one of your _lessons_ that I'm short fused with everyone today, perhaps you might like to take a break from teaching and give me up as a lost cause." Harry drawled in irritation. He hated when she made a game of it, if she was going to do it she should get it over with. But it was worth a try to prevent it anyway…

She narrowed her eyes. "Oh no, Mr. Potter… there are no 'lost causes' with me. (She gave a tittering laugh that sounded anything but cheery) You will have your lessons until you learn. Slow as you are, you _WILL learn!_" She said the last few words with a vicious tone as she pointed her wand at him.

**"Crucio!" **

Harry screamed, and the horrifying sound seemed to reverberate tenfold inside the small cupboard and the ears of the three hiding within it. None of them could move for shock.

Umbridge lifted the curse when Harry was on his knees. Harry coughed up blood and got back to his feet, swaying slightly. "Perhaps you should just accept the fact that you're a lousy teacher", Harry spat, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.

**"Crucio!"** Came Umbridge's bitter voice. Harry's screams were even worse the second time, his voice breaking with the strain of previous sessions of this same torture.

Umbridge continued five more times, cursing him a total of seven Cruciatus. By the end of which, Hermione was in silent tears on the floor of the cupboard. She hadn't jumped out before the second curse only because they had sworn to Harry they wouldn't, and because she knew it was better Umbridge didn't find out they had witnessed it. She was crazy; she may have done something drastic to silence them, which was why Harry had made them promise.

But still, it was all she could do to silence her shaking sobs and not burst out of the cupboard.

Umbridge said shortly to Harry as he lay shaking and twitching on the floor, "Don't you even think about not showing up this afternoon. I will drag you into that room myself, despite where you are or whom you're with, you understand me you filthy half-breed?" she said roughly, all honey gone from her voice.

They assumed Harry nodded, for they could not see him anymore, but Umbridge gave a short chuckle and left.

As soon as Hermione was sure she was gone, she flung the cupboard doors open and ran to Harry's shaking, twitching side.

He had gotten himself to his hands and knees now and was lurching. As Ron and Flitwick came over, Harry retched violently, but little more than blood came up. Flitwick had to support himself on Ron's knee, but Ron shook; none too steady himself. His head was still swimming with screams, and it would be for the next few weeks.

Hermione could not stop her tears. The thought of how long Harry had endured this without a word kept reeling through her mind.

"Why? _Why_ didn't you tell us?" Was all Hermione could manage as Harry sat back and held his head in his hand.

"I didn't want you worrying more than you already had to…" Harry rasped quietly, throat aching and voice all but destroyed.

"Are you…are you saying… she has been doing this for…for…" Flitwick faltered in a squeaky, flabbergasted voice.

"Since she dragged me back out of the dungeons." Harry croaked in reply, still unable to stop himself shaking. He twitched involuntarily with pain as Hermione put an arm around his shoulders. Flitwick sank to the floor with a little strangled noise. Ron stood stock still, trying to comprehend how Harry had managed to survive it this whole time.

"How…_how_…" was all Flitwick could say. "Does Albus Dumbledor know about this?" he managed to ask, regaining his squeaky voice.

"I doubt it." Harry replied, voice cracking painfully.

"This must stop! You cannot go on like this my poor boy, it isn't right!" Flitwick said in a stronger tone.

"How can it stop?" Harry asked, raising his aching head to stare at the opposite wall. "I can't leave, it's too close to O.W.L's, and professor Dumbledor gave up his office to keep me in school. I can't repeat, I can't leave, I have to keep going, I can put up with it until-" but Harry trailed off with a dry rasp as his ruined throat caused him a coughing fit. He coughed up more blood.

Flitwick seemed dazed by his statement, but then it seemed another question pressed him. "What was she talking about, when she called you a Half-Breed?" he asked in anxious confusion.

Harry could barely answer, for his voice was giving out completely. "She had me bitten… McGonagall will explain…" Harry said shortly. He trusted Flitwick with the information, no question. But his throat was now protesting use. "You need to get down to lunch, before she suspects something." He said to Ron and Hermione. He suddenly got himself to his feet. Hermione was shocked he could still stand after such an onslaught. But realizing how long this must have been going on, she supposed he might have built some sort of resistance to the Cruciatus' effects.

"Very well, he's right, you two had better get down to the great hall… but Mr. Potter, you shall come with me to my office." Said Flitwick.

Harry stumbled shakily, his nerves still twinging with pain. He checked the corridor was completely clear before they all emerged from the room.

"You sure you'll be ok mate?" asked Ron anxiously as Harry leant against the wall. Harry gave a short nod, though it hurt his head, it was better than his throat. Hermione, to his surprise, gave him a hug before she and Ron left, her wiping her eyes with her sleeves as they went.

Harry followed Flitwick to his office and was sat in a chair. Flitwick gave him water, which he was extremely grateful for, and performed a charm that numbed his pain for a while. Flitwick did not press Harry for any further information, and Harry, thanking him for his help, left for his afternoon classes when the bell rang.

Harry was too tired to get overly angry in Transfiguration. No matter how hard he tried, he could not succeed with the task at hand. He sat and stared morosely at the pigeon he should be vanishing, which pecked at his robes. He resisted the strange urge to bite it and shot Umbridge a filthy look as she sat at the front of the class, monitoring it. She was only there to gloat over Harry, knowing what he would be facing tonight and preventing him from getting any sleep during class to ease his aching brain before hand.

McGonagall wore a forcibly stony expression and spoke to neither Umbridge nor, though she wished to, Harry. Harry attempted to vanish his pigeon as it now pecked and pulled irritatingly at his hair. It lost its head and began flapping around sightlessly. It took off, looped around a bit, and then collided with Umbridge's head.

The class could barely contain its laughter, though it tried to at the look on Umbridge's face. Harry sat with eyebrows raised in slight surprise. McGonagall swept past them, and without a glance, Harry heard her whisper,

"Full marks Potter".

Harry looked away from Umbridge as an irresistible grin split his face.

But the grin was well and truly gone by the end of the lesson. Umbridge shot him a venomous smile and he stood with a sigh. "Well, I suppose I'll see you two tomorrow, a little worse for wear I expect." Harry said to the others glumly as he left.

"Good luck mate," said Ron shakily, and Hermione it seemed couldn't speak.

Harry set off for the defense against the dark arts classroom.

When he arrived, Umbridge was waiting. She took his wand from him and locked him in the darkening classroom without a word.

Harry realized, as his stomach gave a loud growl, that Umbridge had intentionally starved him just before full moon, so that when he attacked himself, it would be even worse for his hunger and bloodlust. 


	3. Chapter 3

_Okies, this is the next bit, and it's a reeeeal doozey!_

_And whats more, ive found a few flaws that i should clarify._

_For starters, i do not write this with the notion of the movie as far as the DADA classroom goes, which means Umbridge's office is on a seperate floor to her classroom, just the next floor down though i think. And also, the reason they don't just all hide under the cloak instead of running away to try and get Harry out is that they can't all fit under the cloak cause Harry as a werewolf is pretty big. Plus, they're under preassure, i doubt they even thought of just sitting there and hiding, i know running would be on my mind._

_lawl. Anywho, i hope you enjoy, i double typed half of this cause i didn't know ide already typed it ALL up doh but thats okay cause i made some necessary changes anywho, so there ya go. Tis a nailbiter, but i hope you enjoy it all the same._

_and much love for Ron._

_ -Death out-  
_

* * *

Hermione walked out of the library earlier than usual. She had been attempting to find an alternative to help Harry keep control when transformed for the past few days, but to no avail. She had Ron with her on this occasion, but still all they had was the spell Lupin had relayed to them through McGonagall. They had decided they would attempt it tonight, assuming Umbridge wasn't around and they could get to Harry. They had decided in the last hour or so that if they managed the spell successfully, they would spend the night there casting it every hour or so to give Harry maximum relief… and hope that Umbridge wasn't too suspicious if she found him unscathed and he reasoned that he had controlled his wolf side. But to make sure they weren't caught, they would remain under the invisibility cloak all night. 

They therefore made to swing by Umbridge's office in the cloak to see she was there. If so, they would go up to Harry and wait for him to transform so they could cast the spell. They were fairly confident with it now, but all the same, the cloak might be useful in escaping him if it wasn't.

They reached the right corridor and proceeded with caution so that not even the suits of armor could hear them and turn their heads. They came to the door and found it ajar, something they had certainly not expected. They could hear voices inside, and peering through the crack (Ron's head looking over the top of Hermione's) they saw Umbridge standing behind her desk. They heard an unseen Filch speaking.

"…Called for me headmistress, I was in the middle of fixing that chandelier again…"

"Never mind the Chandelier Filch, we have a much more serious problem on our hands. I have been tipped off by a reliable source that a very dangerous prank is to be pulled on me tonight. Someone is going to set a werewolf loose in the castle. I don't know whom, but I know it will be after curfew. My main priority is of course the student's safety…" they heard her shifting something around and opening a case. Hermione could see her place a small rectangular box on the desk Filch moved around to see as she opened the case, and his face, now in view, lit up upon seeing it.

"I assume you know how to operate these muggle wands?" she asked.

"Oh yes, Headmistress… I'm well versed in all means of student protection," he said in a strange purring voice he usually reserved for talk of his old student torture implements. Hermione had to clasp a hand to her mouth to stop herself gasping as she saw Filch pick up the gun and realized what Umbridge was planning.

"Here… six silver bullets, it's all I could get at such short notice…"

"More than enough, Headmistress, don't you worry." Filch wheezed as he cocked and fired the empty old silver pistol.

Ron and Hermione gave one alarmed look to each other before slinking off down the corridor. They sprinted the rest of the way up to the classroom. It was almost moonrise and five minutes off curfew…

Hermione magically unlocked the door and they burst into the room, locking it behind them again.

Harry stood in the shadows between two windows. He was taken completely by surprise at their entrance and moved forward into the faint light of the window.

"What are you doing here?" he hissed. His voice was slightly different, not quite right…

"Harry! She's going to kill you!" Ron burst out frantically.

"What?"

"We heard her, in her office with Filch. We were checking to see if we could sneak up here and cast that spell of Lupin's on you, but she was telling Filch that someone was going to set a werewolf loose in the castle and…"

"We saw the muggle wand," Ron cut in, his voice unusually high with panic, "and she's got silver bullets-"

"She's going to let you loose after curfew and have Filch shoot you! She wants to make it look like an accident! Harry we've got to get you out of here…" Hermione squealed desperately, moving towards him.

"DON'T!" Harry yelled, stepping back. He was not himself. He was standing in a tense manner, his voice sounding much harsher than usual. Hermione stopped short in surprise.

"I can't, Hermione, the moon, I'm about to…"

Suddenly, a light filtered through the window… it grew rapidly… the full moon had already risen, and now it emerged from behind a low cloud on the horizon, throwing Harry's features into sharp relief.

He looked worse in that light, as though near Death… but he was tensed, and he looked out toward the full moon as his body began to shake…

Hermione and Ron watched the transformation a second time with horror. A huge silver wolf with black points now crouched where Harry had stood, moments ago.

Hermione's mind reacted automatically.

"Ron! The spell! On three, ready? One, two, three!

"Domare Monstruosus Ingenium!" They both bellowed, pointing their wands at Harry. He gave a great shudder and released a held breath. Slowly, he raised his head, then he looked at them curiously… but he felt no desire to attack.

_They did it! They're Brilliant! _Thought Harry as he got properly to his feet, shook himself and padded over to them. He tried to tell them to put the invisibility cloak back on, but it came out as a whine. So he picked it up in his mouth instead and thrust it at Ron, who got the message.

"It's after Curfew now, she's going to be coming up to release you, probably right into Filch's lap… we'll have to hurry and be REALLY careful…" whispered Hermione as she and Ron disappeared and she unlocked and opened the door. They went out ahead of Harry. He knew exactly where they were, his keen wolf hearing pinpointing them by the slightest of their sounds.

At the all clear, Harry emerged, moving swiftly down the corridor and into the first secret passage he knew. He had seven floors to get down to escape, and he had no idea where Filch was. Ron and Hermione entered behind him just as he heard Umbridge coming down the corridor. He stood stock still until he heard her stop. She suddenly came running past their tapestry… she was off to find Filch. Harry didn't waste another second. He loped awkwardly down the stairs. Going headfirst on all fours was quite unnerving, but he made it down. He burst through the invisible wall at the bottom, and a second later,

"BANG! KA-CHINK!"

Harry jumped and swung his head around in shock. There was Filch, holding the gun. He had barely loaded it with one bullet when the werewolf appeared out of no-where. His aim therefore was not very planned and the bullet missed and hit a suit of Armour. It clanged to the ground, muffling Filch's swearing and Harry shot off in the opposite direction. He swung around a corner to see Umbridge coming down the stairs. She whipped out her wand but Harry bowled on forward, reaching the stairs down to the next level just as she shot a curse at him. It hit the wall as Harry bounded down the stairs, barely keeping his footing, leaping ten at a time. He landed awkwardly on the floor of the next level and heard Umbridge screech "FIIIIILCH!"

Harry ran around the fourth floor to get to a passage that would take him down two levels, but in the corridor before it, Filch emerged suddenly through just such a passage down from the previous floor. Harry was staring down the barrel as Filch clumsily cocked the gun and aimed. By the time he was lining up his shot, Harry had turned and was just near the end of the corridor.

"BANG!"

Harry felt the whoosh of the bullet near his lower back as he leapt around the corner, but he remained unscathed. He bounded toward the other end of the fourth level, where a passage would take him to the next floor down at least, but around two corridors, he faced Umbridge again. "CRUCIO!"

He yelped in pain and cringed, writhing with agony, but it stopped quickly. Harry heard Umbridge yell, and he looked up to see a wand in mid air and Umbridge flat on her back. Harry jumped up and leapt over Umbridge, passing Ron and Hermione who ran after him. He reached the corridor and the tapestry, pushing it aside with his nose. He heard Umbridge pursuing them and panicked, tripping. He went Tumbling head over paws down the narrow corridor and yelped in pain. He hit the floor and wooden door at the bottom. He whined as stars danced in front of his eyes. He lurched to his feet, instinct telling him to ignore the pain and keep running, but he realized he couldn't turn the doorknob. Hermione appeared at his side as they heard an invisible Ron cast an expelliarmus from halfway up the stairs that delayed Umbridge further. Hermione found the door was locked, and she couldn't unlock it magically. "Damn it!"

Harry hardly ever heard her swear, but now was not the time to act shocked. Harry nudged her back up the stairs and then began throwing his weight against the door. After three shattering blows, it gave and crashed out, de-hinged. Apparently the locking spell was not ram-proof. "MOVE!" yelled Ron, throwing the cloak over Hermione and himself as they pushed out into the corridor. A spell came down the stairs and skinned Harry as he scrambled away. He growled at the sting it had left. "Head upwards Harry! They won't expect it!" Hermione told him. He did as he was told, but Ron and Hermione headed for another passage down, making a lot more noise, to lead Umbridge on.

She stopped, huffing, as she reached the corridor below. She was about to follow the sounds downstairs, but saw her spell had not missed its mark. Spots of blood trailed to lead to a passage upstairs. Umbridge sent a signal back up the passage she had come down to Filch and followed the blood trail. The spell would take effect soon… he would be immobilized for a few crucial seconds.

Harry ran as fast as he could, but it became difficult… as though a weight were settling on him. He struggled against it, leaping and staggering up the stairs. He reached the fifth floor again, but by the time he got to the corridor with the passage he had just been down, he could no longer move his legs. His muscles seized up and, fatigued, he collapsed.

_What is wrong with me!?_

He panicked. And suddenly, he heard something to make it worse. Filch came striding around the corner, his face triumphant as he chuckled, loading and slowly cocking the pistol. There were more footsteps. Umbridge was approaching eagerly from behind, not wanting to miss it…Harry knew right then that there was no hope… but was it just him, or were there more than her footsteps approaching?

"Ron, she isn't following us!" Hermione said suddenly, stopping. The cloak slid off her and Ron took it off, turning to listen. She was right. His stomach dropped. "She followed him?"

Hermione gasped suddenly, "Oh no! I saw him bleeding, I didn't think… she got him… she followed his blood, he's…"

"NO!" Ron yelled, and he sprinted back up the corridor, Hermione in tow. He leapt up the stairs three at a time but Hermione couldn't keep pace. She prayed he would reach Harry in time.

Ron jumped over the fallen door of the hidden passage and vaulted up the stairs as fast as he could, he heard Umbridge laughing somewhere above him, he heard the click of the gun being cocked. He leapt out from behind the hidden tapestry and in front of an immobile Harry just as there was a loud "BANG!"

Hermione cried out, racing up the stairs of the secret passageway. She had not heard a yelp, but she had heard a yell.

She burst through the tapestry, wheezing, and stopped short, seeing Ron lying across a still Harry, except that RON was bleeding. Hermione looked to Filch, who stood utterly bewildered, gun still poised. "Evertere!" said Hermione, pointing her wand at the pistol. It broke in half and fell to the floor. Filch gave a yell of surprise. Umbridge raised her wand, but Hermione was faster, "Expelliarmus! Accio!"

She now held Umbridge and Harry's wands. She lifted the curse on Harry, threw him his wand and said, "Run!"

Harry glanced fretfully at Ron, who was bleeding profusely from the bullet wound in his shoulder. "Go mate…" said Ron through deep breaths of pain. Harry picked his wand up in his mouth and scrambled down the steps. The smell of humans began to drive his instincts crazy as he ran out the great oak doors of the entrance hall. Ron and Hermione's spell had worn off quicker than expected. Harry's night was far from over.


	4. Chapter 4

_This is a relatively short chapter... but i really do think you'll understand why once you've read it, it is quite intense. _

_And i just KNOW there will be some people bleating about how stupid it is for all the shit that happens to harry and there couldn't POSSIBLY be that much bad stuff happen to a person without them dieing. PLEASE if you think you have the need to say this, don't. It's a fictiponal world of MAGIC. He can get as hurt as he likes and things will fix him. Hermione, no doubt, will be giving him a regular supply of dittany to help heal the wounds, and Harry hasn't gone mad because he's just better at remaining real and sane for the sake of his friends, he has something to strive for ok. Anywho, it's all about to come to a head here. Although i DID have to change a detail with the sword... after reading the 7th book and he can't accio the sword, so i just added the sorting hat, which is a handy sword portal yes? XD_

_Poor Hat is probably sitting on the banister after all this going "tch, a can of bug spray would have been faster and more efficient..."_

_ LOL SHOT RON. and cliffhanger much?  
_

_enjoy the dark side of Harry ._

_-Death out.  
_

* * *

Hermione burst into the hospital wing, supporting a pale and staggering Ron. "Madame Pomfrey!" she called desperately. Within seconds, the Matron appeared, wrapping a dressing gown around herself. Umbridge and a very dumbfounded Filch entered the hospital wing as she exclaimed, "What on EARTH happened?"

"He was shot with a silver bullet intended for a dangerous beast. Mr.Weasley was _foolish _enough to jump into it's path-"

"You tried to murder Harry!" Hermione screeched, enraged.

"What are you talking about you silly girl! It was a werewolf…" Umbridge said coldly, eyes narrowing.

"You know damn well it was Harry! YOU had him bitten and now you're trying to MURDER HIM!"

Madame Pomfrey was totally in shock, but she immediately set to treating Ron, who looked about ready to pass out from shock and blood loss.

"What are you talking about Ms. Granger?" Madame Pomfrey asked tersely as she ripped back Ron's shirt from the wound in his shoulder.

"It's true…" Ron croaked weakly, shaking and yelping in pain as Madame Pomfrey drew the bullet out of his shoulder with her wand.

"Give me my wand back girl or so help me I'll-"

"You'll WHAT? Try to have me knocked off like you're doing to Harry? Don't play innocent Umbridge, we heard you! We saw you when you tortured Harry!"

Umbridge looked like she had just been slapped in the face. "What?" she said flatly, all honey long gone from her voice.

"Yeah… we saw what you did… using the cruciatus…" Ron spat at her bitterly as Madame Pomfrey poured a stinging liquid into his wound and he grit his teeth against the pain, wondering how Harry had endured agony like this on a daily basis.

Umbridge looked like she was doing some very quick thinking.

"Ms. Granger, Mr. Weasley, you are both suspended. You will remain confined to Gryffindor tower in your dormitories until further notice. And if you do not give me back my wand, NOW, Ms. Granger, it will be expulsion." Umbridge said, her voice getting sweeter again as their expressions became more aghast.

Shaking with anger and shock, Hermione handed Umbridge her wand. She had no choice, if they were expelled, all hope of helping Harry disappeared, but if they were there, even if they were suspended, they would know what was going on and could find a way, she was sure, to help Harry…

"Madame Pomfrey, when you have mended Mr. Weasley's wound, Mr. Filch will escort these two to their dormitories and the school house elves will be guarding them. If Mr. Weasley's wound needs any further treatment, the house elves will escort him to and from his dormitory at your request. And believe nothing they tell you. They have been influenced by a terrible, _EX-_student who shall be appropriately punished for the dangerous prank he has pulled tonight." Said Umbridge wickedly, smiling like a fat toad full of flies as she left.

* * *

Harry never dreamed that he would _become_ one of the feared monsters of the dark forests of Hogwarts… but then he never dreamed that even the monsters could be hunted by _other_ monsters in the forest.

No one was really safe at all…

Harry ran as fast as his bloodied paws would carry him. He still heard it shuffling through the forest behind him. He gained ground through a thicker patch of trees, but they thinned out quickly and suddenly he reached the open grounds of Hogwarts.

He bounded, frantic, up the slopes. He did not know how far behind it was. The sky darkened and suddenly, Harry was struck down by excruciating pain as he was halfway over the lawns. When the pain subsided, he grabbed his wand from the grass where he had dropped it and continued to sprint, now in human form, towards the castle he had been so keen to escape only hours ago.

He heard it again, close, but did not spare time to turn and look. He threw a useless spell over his shoulder and wrenched open the oak doors.

He staggered in and threw his weight back on the door to close it, but something much heavier threw back. Harry backed up as the huge acromantula advanced in through the door. Harry raised his bloody, aching arm and sent a string of curses its way. It stopped, but the curses bounced off with dull thuds, they had no effect on its thick, magical hide. "Damn it!" Harry cursed. It advanced slowly, pincers clicking in excitement.

_What will stop it? What stops big crazy human killing magical creatures?_

"OF COURSE!" Harry gasped as he dived away from the creature as it lunged its stinger at him.

"Accio Sword!"

Harry had to dodge three more stabs at him as it reared on its four hairy hind legs. He realized that the sword was not coming… he had half expected it, but the memory of how he had first retrieved it came to him, and perhaps it was worth a try…

"Accio Sorting Hat!"

After another two dodges of the spider (which was getting harder because he ached from the nights injuries), he heard it come flapping down the stairs. How it got out of Dumbledor's office, he didn't know, but it was there, and Harry caught it. He rammed it on his head as he ran around the creature, keeping to its side where it couldn't really get a clear view or shot at him.

_HELP ME!_

He yanked the hat off before the hilt hit his head and it fell out into his hand. Chucking the hat onto the end of one of the marble staircase balustrades, Harry swung the sword at the creature as it made to strike him down and he cut off one of it's clawed, hairy feet.

It screeched in pain and backed away, before it hissed and lunged again. Harry stabbed at it and it recoiled, shuffling around quickly. Harry swung at it and it continued to dance around him, faking lunges.

"Come on! Leave or Die!" Harry said angrily, too tired and exhausted to keep up this game. It had to end quickly, one way or the other, and he hoped only the one way where HE didn't die…

It suddenly made to knock the sword back and reared to sting him, but Harry swung the sword around its defense and thrust upwards at the exposed belly of the spider.

It lurched and screeched, foaming at the mouth, and keeled backwards, legs curling up.

Harry grasped his chest… he pulled out the thing stuck into him, causing more pain. The sting. It had gotten him. Not much venom had been injected, but Harry was sure it was enough.

And yet his mind did not blank, knowing in that instant he was going to die. Instead, one thought captivated all his remaining strength…

_Get to Umbridge… this is her fault… all her fault… and she should know before the end… the pain she caused me…_

Harry grasped his wand tightly as his head began to swim a little. He used the sword to support himself as he hurried up the stairs. The poison affected him slower than he had expected… and the wound itself felt more numb than painful. It wasn't even really bleeding as much as he expected.

Her reached the fifth floor before his vision started to become a little blurry. Eventually, he reached Umbridge's office, and pointing his wand at the door, it burst open magically. Harry's chest ached, but he was glad to find a flabbergasted Umbridge sitting at her desk writing something…

"Expelliarmus!" Harry rasped as Umbridge raised her wand. The look on his face suddenly terrorized her. He closed the door and mumbled croakily "so no one will hear, no one will know…" and pointed his wand at her again.

"Crucio!"

Umbridge's screams were like a banshee as she fell to the floor twitching… like that spider, curling into itself…

Harry lifted the spell, face stony, eyes a little blurrier, yet his head was clear.

_What am I doing? How am I doing this? I don't care, she deserves it, she deserves all she gets from me after what she's done…_

"Please… don't, I beg you, Potter, it was for your own go-"

"CRUCIO!"

Harry bellowed this time as the memories of all her tortures returned, each like a lash on his back.

"I'm not your victim anymore Umbridge. I'm not the hunter, like you, but you'll be the hunted… when I die, they will come for you…" Harry rasped as he lifted the spell. Umbridge was twitching and whimpering on the floor. Harry felt only hatred, thinking about how she had made _him_ like that, so many times before in 'detentions'.

"And think, I'm no where near as bad as you…"

"Please, I beg you…"

"CRUCIO!"

Her screams made his head spin. He was glad when they stopped. He did not lift the curse until her eyes rolled into the back of her head and he was sure she had blacked out. He then looked at the papers on her desk…

Letters of suspension, with Ron and Hermione's names on them, and a letter of expulsion for him. With a look of contempt, Harry threw the letters into Umbridge's fire. He then calmly walked out, leaning heavily on the sword, closing the door behind him.

He staggered up to Gryffindor tower. The Fat Lady awoke when he scraped the sword on the stone next to her portrait. He could barely stand, his head was swimming and vision blurred, and she swung forward without question. Harry dragged himself up to the dormitory. He found a house elf outside it, asleep. He entered silently and sat on his bed, his vision now clouded so he couldn't make out Ron's freckles, but he was there.

"I'm sorry…" Harry croaked, knowing Ron couldn't hear. Still clutching the sword and his wand and not removing his glasses, Harry lay down on his bed, letting the fatigue and poison take him. "Thankyou." He whispered to Ron in the darkness before he was gone.


	5. Chapter 5

I can't say much about this, im using a uni mac, which doesn't have the software to allow the editing stuff on Fanfic net XD so i merely hope you enjoy this little installment.weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee. I got really sick of typing it about halfway through but persevered for your sakes XD i may do even more when i get home tonight, but that's not a promise. Anyway, there ya go. -Death out. 

Ron woke quite suddenly. He must have been dreaming, but he didn't remember it. It was fairly early morning, about seven o'clock he guessed. It was raining lightly outside. A wave of morose despair washed over Ron as he lay there remembering everything that had happened. He turned his head automatically, knowing Harry wasn't there.

But his breath caught in his chest when he saw that he was.

Ron scrambled up stiffly, his left arm aching in it's sling from shoulder down, he went to Harry's bed, wondering if he wasn't dreaming and imagining this because it was quite bizarre.

Harry lay fully clothed, covered in blood and werewolf scratches, but there was also a wound, small but quite deep, on his chest. It was not bleeding, and Harry was deathly pale. He clutched his wand and Gryffindor's sword. Ron pinched himself. Then he panicked, because he was definitely awake, and that meant Harry was really…

Ron rushed to the door, and wrenching it open, found a house elf outside it. Ron did a double take. It was Dobby. The one from last night had changed shift.

"Dobby! Quick, go and get Hermione…"

"But sir, I is not supposed to leave the-"

"Dobby, Harry's… he's… you have to go get Hermione, I need her! Harry needs her!" Ron said in a strangled voice. He couldn't accept that what he saw had been true… he couldn't say it… he needed Hermione to tell him either way.

"Harry Potter sir?" said Dobby, his tennis ball sized eyes shining with panic. He ran away, and a minute later, returned with a bleary eyed Hermione who wore a Weasley jumper over her pyjamas.

"What is it? Dobby said something about Harry?" She asked anxiously. Ron led her in silently, and she gasped as she saw him. They knelt either side of his bed. They were silent for a few minutes.

"Is… is he…" Hermione trembled.

"I don't know… I … I didn't check…" Ron said fearfully, giving her a desperate look. Hermione put her fingers around Harry's wrist… she couldn't tell… she couldn't find a pulse. Ron looked stricken but Hermione wasn't so certain… she then put her fingers to his neck…

"Ron, he's… he's still alive!" she said after pressing fingers to both sides of Harry's neck. Ron let out a strange strangled sound of relief.

"His pulse is _very_ weak… and so is his breathing," she added, holding a hand over his slightly open mouth to feel the slightest movement of air. She looked over his wounds and noticed the deep puncture in his chest just below the ribs. She looked at it more closely, then at the sword, and she gasped again, hand to her mouth and eyes widening.

"What, what is it?" Ron asked anxiously.

"Ron I think… I think he fought an acromantula…"

"Not those big creepy spiders from the forest? Why? How do you know?"

"That wound…" she said, pointing to his chest, "it's a sting, it must be, that must be why he has the sword, he needed it to fight off an acromantula…" she scanned his blood-strewn form with his self-inflicted werewolf wounds, "It must have smelt his blood, and followed him up to the castle… or chased him, there's dirt on his knees and arms…" Hermione explained solemnly.

"Oh mate, I don't know how you do it… I'd be dead." Ron moaned, looking at Harry in distressed disbelief.

Hermione put a hand to Harry's forehead.

"I think he's been poisoned. That would explain why he isn't bleeding, and why he's so cold, and if we don't help him soon…" she and Ron shared a frightened glance.

"But how-"

"Mr. Wheezy! Ms. Granger! There is someone coming!" Dobby suddenly cut across Ron, peering in through the slightly open door.

"Umbridge, Dobby thinks, but she has lots of wizards and witches with her. Dobby is afraid because Winky tells Dobby they has come for Harry Potter!" he said with a frightened trembling tone, pointing to a, for once, sober Winky, who stood twisting the end of the Hogwarts tea-towel she wore.

"What? How do you know Winky?" Hermione asked in a panicked whisper.

"Winky is seeing them miss…" she squeaked conspiratorially. "And Winky is hearing Umbridge say Harry Potter is to be arrested!" she went on, eyes growing enormous and shining in her surprise.

"Arrested! What for? _She_ tried to kill him!"

"The headmistress tried to kill Harry Potter?" Dobby cut in, as wide eyed as Winky. Hermione watched with some surprise as the elf became. Apparently quite angry. She had never seen Dobby angry before. The long batty ears quivered and his face flushed red. Sparks crackled at his fingertips and he drew himself up to his full height (which was about up to Hermione's hips).

"Dobby will not let them near Harry Potter! They will not touch him as long as Dobby has breath in his body ms. Granger!" he said in a very impressive voice for a house-elf.

Suddenly, she heard shouting downstairs. It sounded like someone was trying to get past the fat lady but not succeeding.

"They is here!" squeaked Winky frightfully before she disappeared with a _crack!_

"They will not get Harry Potter! Dobby will not let them!" Dobby repeated, standing firm in front of the door.

"But Dobby, I thought you had to obey the headmaster, and Umbridge will make you move…" Ron piped up, confused.

"Umbridge is not Dobby's master! She is not the real headmaster, oh no. She does not pay Dobby, but Dobby doesn't care. Dobby can serve who he likes because he is a free elf!" Dobby announced proudly.

There was another loud _crack!_ And Winky reappeared, looking stricken.

"Dobby cannot fight them! There are too many, Dobby mustn't!" She squealed frightfully, as though she were very concerned for Dobby.

"How many?" Hermione asked urgently. Winky blinked at her. "Winky is not sure Miss, but Winky guesses at least ten…" she said sniffingly, "And Dobby must not fight them because Winky loves him and Winky does not want him to get hurt!"

Dobby seemed too flabbergasted by this information to make any response.

There was a very loud crashing sound downstairs and Hermione heard the voices grow louder.

"Hermione, what's going on?" Ron asked tensely, having missed the conversation with the elves while making sure Harry remained alive.

Hermione grabbed the two elves by their towel togas and brought them into the room before closing the door and casting a spell on it. It wouldn't give them much time… Hermione was thinking hard, but the only thing her brain would give her was the wonder at how the rest of Rona and Harry's dormitory were still asleep…

She looked at Ron, then the still shell-shocked Dobby, then Harry. A horrible sinking feeling had hold of her, but she knew what they had to do… she had known since Dobby had said Umbridge was coming, even though she was aware it wouldn't do them much good.

She strode over to Harry's bed, took his wand carefully out of his cold, limp hand, and shoved it into Dobby's hand.

"Keep that safe at all costs Dobby, the ministry mustn't get it." She said. Dobby snapped back to himself. He seemed to realise to keep it safe meant not staying there, so he and Winky disappeared with two loud cracks.

With one look at Hermione's face, Ron drew his wand. They stood, shoulder-to-shoulder, wand-by-wand, at the foot of Harry's bed.

They heard the group thundering up the stairs. Ron and Hermione tensed, ready for a fight, as the doorknob was tried and someone gave a yell, having apparently been burnt by it. After some profuse cursing, a loud BANG! Rent the room, finally waking the inhabitants as the door fell in.

"Expelliarmus!" Ron and Hermione shouted in unison.

The first two wizards were knocked into their companions behind them. Hermione recognised them as ministry members. But not just any members, these were Aurors. The next few stumbled over their fallen and taken aback colleagues.

"Diffindo!" Ron shouted, but missed. The Auror sent a spell his way. "Protego! Petrificus totalis!" Hermione shouted in his defence. There was no time for thanking her however, as they continued to flood in.

Ron and Hermione felled five more, until suddenly,

"EXPELLIARMUS!"

A huge lion-ish roar of a voice had said the spell and Ron and Hermione found themselves wandless. "Petrificus totalis!" One of the Aurors on the floor shouted for good measure. Ron gave a muffled yell of pain as he fell on his injured shoulder.

Someone stepped over his fallen companions, and Ron looked up into the face of a rather gruff looking Auror. He had a loose mane of grizzled hair, but he was nothing like Moody… he was tall, had all his nose and both his own eyes and gave Ron the impression of some grizzled old lion. He looked on Ron and Hermione with some surprise. He seemed even a little impressed. "If they weren't fighting against us, I might consider these two for Auror academy when they finished school…" he sighed. Umbridge came in behind him, not having heard what he said. She was red in the face, shaking and looking extremely flustered.

"What's going on? What's wrong with Harry?" A very shell-shocked Seamus asked, looking around wide eyed and tousle haired. But he was not answered. Dean merely gaped, and Neville looked extremely shaken and tight lipped, staring at Harry.

"There he is! There's the culprit! Wake him and arrest him!" Umbridge screeched, looking manic and angry but somewhat triumphant as well, her velvet bow askew.

"I do not think he is asleep… not by choice at least." Murmured the grizzled Auror. He leant over Harry scowling and put his fingers to Harry's neck as Hermione had done. Umbridge continued to rant however.

"Where is his wand? It must be snapped in half! That boy is psychotic, he is dangerous! A Half-breed! He put the entire school and students in jeopardy, he used an _unforgiveable_ on ME! Mark my words he will be sent to Azkaban-"

"He cannot be sent to Azkaban," said the Lion Auror with a sigh, "he is underage. He can only be detained in the ministry, but from what you've told me, it will be Azkaban when he's old enough." He replied, scowling and reaching over to pick up the sword. "But then this makes very little sense…" he muttered, looking over the sword, making the connection between the dead Acromantula they had encountered in the entrance hall and the wound in Harry's chest. Umbridge came over to the bed looking dubious.

"He's dead is he?" She asked flatly.

"No. I think he is poisoned." He replied.

"Well, take him and revive him and then we shall deal with what he has done!" Umbridge said, a cruel look coming into her eyes.

The Aurors, who had recovered, went to bind the cold Harry and take him on a stretcher, but the grizzly Auror continued to scowl, looking around.

"His wand is not here."

"What?" Umbridge barked. "It must be! He had it last night, he cursed me with it! How can that sword be here and not his wand?" She rambled angrily. The Auror looked shrewdly at Ron and Hermione who lay, still unable to move, on the floor. He pointed his wand at Hermione and muttered the counter-curse. She scrambled up, breathing hard and looking like a cornered animal.

"What did you do with it?" The gruff Auror asked coolly.

"I didn't do anything with it. I don't have it," Hermione lied, glaring at him, "and it's Umbridge you should be arresting, not Harry!"

"Excuse her, Scrimgour, she has been corrupted by Potter's lies for far too long now. I'm sure removing him will have a positive effect in the long run." Umbridge said.

Ron made some indistinguishable noises, which were muffled by his magically bound jaws.

"Probably best we don't let Mr. Weasley repeat himself with articulation." Umbridge warned Scrimgour as he raised his wand to release Ron.

"Weasley?" he said in surprise, looking more closely at Ron. "I suppose I should have guessed with the hair… How was he injured?" Scrimgour asked curiously indicating to Ron's shoulder and the arm in the sling.

"It was an accident when Mr. Weasley got in the way of a silver bullet intended for a werewolf…"

Ron made more angry muffled noises but he was ignored as Aurors stepped over him, levitating Harry along in a stretcher, his hands and feet bound with rope.


	6. Chapter 6

_Can't really say much, i feel like crap, i really need sleep. Mind it's nothing to how Harry feels in this installment. Why no, no he's not dead, because if he were dead, this story wouldn't be so long. I have killed him a few times before, but it usually used to involve taking Voldemort out at the same time due to the connection thing... not exactly how it happened in DH, but i wasn't far off. Anywho. This has nothing to do with Voldie and everything to do with the ministry turning a blind eye to whats happening within it's own walls. _

_Senior undersecretaries who hit on their bosses can get away with a lot. I hope you all like my socially unaccepted magical scientists X3_

_And please excuse my poor ability to convert things into feet, inches and pounds, because im aussie and we use metric ftw XD _

_This is an average length chapter, four and a bit typed pages on word, but there isn't much plot progression. Don't worry, there will be in the next bit, but i warn you, it goes back to being a seudo song-fic and an OC gets involved, but hopefully her involvement slips in as smooth as Luna lovegood's appearance in the fifth book._

_ta-ta_

_death out_

* * *

The next thing Harry felt after succumbing to darkness was the sensation of being very cold. There were very distant voices around him… were they the voices of the living, trying to call him back? Or were they the voices of the dead, trying to call him onwards? He wasn't sure for how long they came and went without him being able to try and call out himself, but he remained cold and un-shivering.

His brain felt lethargic… or whatever it was he had now… by any means, he thought that death was certainly not what he had expected. He had hoped for a release from the discomforts of life… perhaps though, when you died, you lived with your last physical circumstances for the rest of your afterlife? Harry's mind automatically groaned, but the sound seemed to come from somewhere far away. He then felt a very curious sensation, as though someone was pricking him in the arm.

_But I don't have an arm anymore… do I?_

The pain intensified and Harry let out a small growl of pain.

He realized he was now in a sort of grey reality rather than a black one, and there was something around him, some solid space…

Wake up… 

Harry opened his eyes blearily, blinking at even the dim light.

I'm not dead? 

"Where am I?" Harry croaked automatically. The pain in his arm subsided and was gone, but the aches of the rest of him were back, especially in his chest.

"Finally. He's up!" called a man Harry realized was hovering over him. Harry tried to move, but his arm was strapped down… why was his arm strapped down?

"Where am I?" Harry repeated a little more forcefully as his dim surroundings came into focus (his glasses having been left on him).

His early impression was not good. He recognized the prick he had felt was a needle, an injection, but this was certainly not a hospital.

"You, boy, are in the custody of the ministry." The man spat at him with a tone of repulsion. Harry had not expected such a vicious sounding answer. Feeling too stiff and sore to sit up, he looked over the grimy grey-black stone walls of the room he was in. He was lying on a hard mattress on the floor of the room. Above him was a stone ceiling, and artificial light flowed dimly in from a window above the wall he was laying alongside, and through a window in the door to his right.

"The ministry…" Harry repeated quietly, "Oh, god..." he groaned, screwing up his eyes again.

She had kept him alive and had him imprisoned in the ministry? This was the last thing Harry had expected. But if she was keeping him alive when before she had been trying to kill him…

It could not, Harry knew, be a good sign…

The man roughly un-did the arm restraint by hand and it vanished. It must have been conjured. The wizard left, slamming the door behind him, which by the sound of it bolted shut automatically. It didn't really matter; Harry doubted he was fit enough for an escape attempt just yet.

Harry dimly registered more voices outside. He sat up slowly, head pounding. That injection must have been anti-venom. Harry flexed his stiff right arm a few times; massaging the slightly bleeding bruise where it seemed more than one injection had been given. He was not aware magical medicine relied upon such crude, muggle means of application. Then again, perhaps they weren't bothering to use less painful magical medical technologies on him, seeing as he was now considered a criminal as far as he could tell.

_Well that's just great, _Harry thought, _I bet Umbridge really beat up those curses I used on her. Never mind she did worse to me and the whole school knows it, oh no, I'M the crazy criminal because I decided to give her a taste of her own medicine…_

Harry swore as his head gave a vicious throb. He tried to get to his feet, but his head swam dangerously, so he stayed sitting. He realized he was only wearing his tattered and bloodstained school trousers. His chest and feet were bare. The faint healed scars that covered his torso were exposed. Hadn't those wizards wondered where he'd gotten them? HOW he'd gotten them?

Then again, if he was in the ministry, doubtless they wouldn't care because Umbridge would by now have convinced them I deserved it, that those were the appropriate measures to take.

Harry swore again, shivering. His stomach rumbled and pain shot through his gut.

The door opened briefly, shinning a glaring blue light on Harry, who squinted against it. Wordlessly, a wizard (possibly the same one from before though Harry couldn't see) roughly placed a tray on the ground near the door and left. Harry, seeing in the once again dim light that it was food and water, dragged himself over to it.

A cold sort of porridge slop and some water. Hungry as Harry was, he ad to admit he'd rather starve. Despite this he attempted to stomach it, and managed to keep it down with the help of gulping down the water afterwards. He left the tray where it was and crawled back over to the mattress.

Sitting on it hunched and cross-legged, he began studying the cell he was in more closely.

In the far right of the wall he faced was a heavy wooden door with a small barred window in it. Along that wall was as bare as any other, made of the rough cold stone that met the smooth stone floor and ceiling. All the same mottled grey-black. A chamber pot stood in the far left corner of that same wall, and in the walls to his left and right the only features were symmetrical half circle barred drains, dead center at the bottom of the walls where they met the floor. In the wall behind him was a small barred window set higher than he could reach. Through it filtered a very dim artificial light. He knew it was magically produced because all the light in the ministry was, as the building was underground. In fact Harry was willing to bet he was as far underground as it got.

Harry sighed, lying back on the mattress, imagining what he would do to Umbridge if he met her again to occupy his mind.

* * *

Harry had, out of boredom, began singing again. Nothing fancy, just random tunes that came to mind.

The first few times he had started doing it on his second day (having spent the first looking for any way out of the cell, which had proved completely fruitless), the guards had irritable flashed curses into his cell and growled at him to shut it, but after a while their calls to him to shut-up were only half-hearted and by the fourth day they didn't bother.

Harry was pacing slowly around his cell humming benignly. As far as he could tell, it was afternoon. The light of his window went through normal daily cycles, and it's grey light was fairly dimmed now.

Suddenly, Harry heard loud footsteps and his humming ceased. He turned to the door, recognizing the sound of those particular footfalls. The door burst open and the guards put their wands to him, restraining him and shoved him down onto his hard mattress, keeping their wands pointed at him. Harry looked up into the faces of the wizards and witches who had entered.

Harry's expression was hard as he looked up into the face of Dolores Umbridge. She was wearing her most sickly evil smile, eyes squinty and colder than ever.

"Come to say 'my turn' have you?" Harry said bitterly. Her smile widened.

"I don't know what you mean, you disturbed little delinquent. I have brought a few associates of mine in to show them their new scientific subject."

Harry glanced at the grey-cloaked wizards and witches behind her. There was something in their curious, eager, hungry expressions he didn't like.

"Scientific subject?" Harry repeated flatly, not at all liking the sound of this. Somehow it didn't seem she would just be whipping him or using the cruciatus again…

"Yes, you see, I found out something very interesting about you, half-breed, something my friends here are extremely keen on investigating. It is curious; because not many people have ever heard of a werewolf who was allergic to wolfsbane…" she said the last few words with delicate emphasis.

Harry paled. How had she found out? What would it mean for him?

"…and you see, you being a delinquent and a criminal, Potter, you do not have the right to deny volunteering your body for scientific research, so… I shall leave these fine witches and wizards to start conducting their experiments, and I wish you luck with your results." She said simperingly with triumphant revenge in her tone as she walked out of the cell.

Harry's face contorted with rage, and though he wanted to call her a thousand unsavory things, he was too angry to speak. Suddenly, the wizards at his sides were replaced by two of the magical scientists. The guards left, and before Harry could get his bearings (as he was still thinking furiously about Umbridge), the two scientists had forced him flat on his mattress and conjured straps on his arms connected by bolts to the floor.

"Right, record one, first day…" said one of the witches, standing with an open parchment notebook and a blue quick quotes quill. "…observing subject reaction. First, subject status, weight…" she said, and she pointed her wand at Harry. He couldn't move for about five seconds, surrounded by a blue light, before it disappeared and he regained mobility. Blue numbers floated above him.

"87 pounds… height…"

The spell she used glowed red, but it had the same effect,

"6foot, one and a half inches… okay, administering of the wolfsbane, direct to the bloodstream…"

Harry craned his neck to see a scientist bend down with a syringe full of wolfsbane in his hand.

"Wait, No! You don't want to do that, I can just TELL you what happened the last time!" Harry said frantically, trying to draw his arm away, but the straps were too tight.

The Wizard with the syringe paused with some shrewd curiosity.

"The descriptions given by a convicted criminal are hardly viable scientific fact, but out of interest, do tell." Said the witch with the notebook coolly.

Harry bit back the retort in his head about being convicted a criminal without trial.

"I was given wolfsbane on it's own to drink… it made me transform, but it aggravated my wolf form rather than suppressed it. I ended up dangerous, and it made me throw up afterwards." Harry tried to explain calmly. The scientists looked at each other.

"Note, on subjects advice, extra caution is to be taken." Said the witch. With a nod, the two restrainer scientists strapped Harry's chest and ankles as well before the scientist with the syringe grasped his upper arm very tightly.

"NO!"

"I suggest you don't move…" he said bitingly as he jabbed the needle into Harry's struggling arm. Harry gave a shocked and angry cry of pain and made a noise of agony as he felt the substance run burning cold through his veins.

It was much more horrible to endure straight to the blood than taken orally.

Harry's eyes rolled into the back of his head and he jerked uncontrollably. His mind was not as phased as his body, and he began to panic as he lost control, horribly aware of his worse reaction and unable to do anything about it. He could not stop the arching of his back or violent shaking of his hands.

The wizards and witches around him backed away a little.

The agony of transformation struck Harry and he cried out, his howls of pain turning to vicious snarls as his form became wolven. Somewhere far away he heard the witch's voice…

"-subject having violent reaction and changing to werewolf form…"

Harry's pain dimmed and he opened his eyes. He tried to move… restrained… with a vicious growl Harry fought his bonds and easily broke them. He felt the panic in the room as the scientists ran for the door. He sat up quickly, ready to spring, but he was delayed by his sudden dizziness. When it faded and he did pounce, it was just as the door closed and he slammed into it.

Harry let out a thunderous growl of frustration, swiping his paws through the bars in the door. He got nothing and drew his paws back with a yelp as they threw a few stinging hexes at him.

Harry withdrew back into the cell, pacing, he could still smell the humans, strong on the air. It drove him crazy, he scraped his claws down the wall, but it did not satisfy. He could hear them out there. He snarled in frustration again as the pungent smell caused a sort of pressure on his chest. He knew there was only one way to relieve it and stop it from suffocating him.

He dug his claws into his shoulder and tore. He let out a snarl of pain and growled softly as he felt the blood run down his arm and on his paw with sickening ecstasy.

He filled his nose with the smell of the blood, but the cycle continued, and he attacked himself again, twice…

_No more, please no more!_ Harry cried out inside. He tried to surface, and in a frenzy of pain, anger and bloodlust, he gained enough control to slam himself hard enough against the wall to knock himself out.

The cool painless darkness lasted a blissful ten minutes before he was awoken by the agony of re-transformation.

He lay against the wall opposite the window, shaking for a few seconds, before pain rent his stomach and he heaved himself over to the chamber pot a few feet away, retching, as he had predicted. There was no blood, only the meager contents of his stomach, which was the porridge slop, water and the stomach acids that had been digesting it.

When he drew away, shaking violently and bleeding, he collapsed on the hard, cold floor, and wished for unconsciousness… but he floated somewhere between it and the real world, which was spinning.

The scientists came in again, poking and prodding him, recording the 'results' with fascination and leaving him exactly as he was when they left again, wondering if their next series of tests would turn out such successful results.

Harry lay shivering for a long time, waiting for the bleeding to stop (at least the scientists had stopped it for the most part, not wanting their subject to die) or darkness to enfold him… he couldn't remember which one came first or how long it took before he finally did.


	7. Chapter 7

_Okies, my mother started reading the pages i had from this chapter sitting in the page stand next to the computer and she got interested XD which is somewhat embarassing for me, because i never wrote any of this with parent viewing in mind, but oh well. _

_Yes, my OC comes in here, but if i just called her a supporting character, would you feel better about her? XD I changed a lot of the dialogue between her and Harry in my hardcopy cause it was frankly just cringeworthy and stupid. Hopefully it's not any more. And it gets song ficcy.  
_

_Now, a lot of people have been asking me when Sirius (and Remus) are going to come into this. Well, originally, they weren't. I never really gave them any heed in this story. _

_BUT._

_because ive had so many people asking after him, i decided i'de write in a new bit or two involving Dumbledor and Sirius, and Remus will probably be in there too. I put some real hard thought into it actually, you wait till you see how Dumbledor gets the lowdown as to what's happened at Hogwarts X3 It's in my head, i haven't written it yet, i have to review the part i have to slip it into so i can make it seamless as far as my original plot is concerned. But he isn't going to run in and save Harry i'm afraid. Someone else is doing that. And they aren't doing it for at least another chapter. _

_This one is quite long, just over 5 pages. Enjoyyyyy plzkthxbai._

_-Death out-  
_

* * *

Hermione had cried quite a bit. Ron didn't know what to do for her. He didn't know what to do at all in fact. He sat in his dormitory while suspended. Staring into space for hours, the same questions running over and over in his mind…

Was Harry Alright? Was he alive? What was happening to him now?

It drove him mad not knowing, seeing again and again the last image of his best friend's face in his mind, in his dreams, that deathly pale face that carried all the pain of his tortured existence for the past year…

It was the memory of the screams that kept him up in the night however.

He only knew that Hermione had been crying because Dobby told him. Dobby was acting as their secret mediator. Winky apparently spent a lot of time trying to comfort her.

Ron, however, was alone right now, lost in thought, absently rubbing his shoulder. It had been two days but the sling was off and the wound almost completely healed. Madame Pomfrey had explained that, for some unknown reason, silver bullet wounds had a somewhat permanent affect. They tended to ache during full moons or severe cold, or, some claimed, when a werewolf was around. Ron hoped it would not hurt every time he saw Harry… but then, he would rather he saw Harry and had him there and have it ache than not have Harry there…

The door suddenly opened and Ron looked up. It was Neville, and he looked anxious and tight lipped, as though he had some dark secret to reveal. Ron didn't speak because it looked like he needed to steal himself to say whatever it was quickly.

"Ron, I… I have a message for you… well, sort of, it wasn't really a message, but… he said it and I couldn't say anything cause I was just…well, I dunno…"

"A message? From who?" Ron asked, bewildered.

"Well…" Neville said uncomfortably, shifting from one foot to the other, biting his lip. "It was… just what Harry said when he got back…" Neville mumbled nervously.

"Harry?…You mean… you saw him when he came…"

Ron's voice was strangled sounding.

Neville looked scared. "I meant to say something… do something… but I was just…I couldn't believe what I saw, I thought I was dreaming and… and I was scared, he really didn't seem himself." Neville explained, sounding ashamed.

"What did he say?" Ron asked urgently. Neville shuffled forward a little, then looked Ron in the eyes.

"He…he said… sorry… and, thankyou… then he just lay down, like he was ready to die or something." Neville replied in a terrified voice.

Ron couldn't speak. He stared into space, mouth agape.

Harry had been sorry… he remembered, he had been dreaming, and Harry's words had been in the dream as he had been a werewolf and had been shot… that dream had gone on and on until it woke him.

But Harry… he had thought he was going to die… he had honestly believed it, and he had attacked Umbridge beforehand because of it (no wonder Neville had been afraid if Harry had come in after cursing Umbridge), and then he had come all the way up to the dormitory, said his apology, and lain down to die…

Except he hadn't… and Umbridge had said they were to revive him.

He was denied Death.

Ron put his head in his hands, and his lanky shoulders shuddered as he sobbed.

Because Harry was dead… and had been thrown into hell… and there was nothing Ron could do.

* * *

Harry lay curled up on his mattress. He shivered constantly. He nursed the crooks of his arms that had been bandaged and winced with a small sharp intake of breath as he shifted his shoulders.

That last test had been so horrible… he couldn't struggle anymore after that for fear it would happen again… he winced just thinking about it.

When they had come for the third day in a row to continue their experiments, Harry had already had enough. Freezing and sore, covered in cuts of his own doing, he had struggled as hard as he could, but they had got the needle in… and due to Harry's struggling, it had broken off.

The excruciating thing had driven his wolf mad, and it had gashed him terribly trying to remove it from the muscles of Harry's shoulder, but had driven it in deeper.

And they had let it happen… they had just stood back and watched him suffer, logging it as just another part of their sick experiments. When he had changed back they saw to the wound, drawing out the needle and patching him up sufficiently. But they never seemed to give a damn that he was made ill by their experiments and suffered greatly for them.  
Of course not, he was a criminal in their eyes. No better than a death-eater would be… Harry admitted to himself if he had heard a death-eater who had tortured someone was being treated like this, he probably wouldn't have any pity for them either. But he felt their cold indifference hardening him inside and he hated it. He hated being so shut out. It was worse than how the Dursleys treated him and THAT was saying something.

Harry coughed violently and sniffed. He was developing a fever now. The Wolfsbane was screwing up his immune system. He felt clammy and uncomfortable and generally just terrible. It was seven days now he had been here, and Harry didn't know if he could honestly take a fortnight of this torture.

Suddenly, he heard something over his shaking, raspy breath and he wondered if maybe he hadn't already gone mad.

It was singing… he heard singing. It wasn't very loud, but he could distinguish two things; the tune, and that the voice was female.

Harry raised his clammy, swimming head and tried to locate the source of the sound.

He dragged himself over to the left wall where it seemed the voice was strongest, and put his face down to the small drain where it was coming from. The drain was a half circle, only big enough for him to put his arm through to the shoulder if not for the metal bars set into it. He listened a little, trying to see into the other cell. As his eyes adjusted he dimly made out a hand on the floor. It was a very pale hand, it seemed its owner was sitting with their back to the wall. Harry recognized the tune they were singing…

"...To the bottle I go, to heal my heart and drown my woe…"

"Wind may fall and rain may blow…" Harry sung softly down the drain, his voice a little croaky. There was a pause before the other continued,

"…And many miles be still to go-"

Then suddenly they were singing along together as though they were two old friends in the leaky cauldron,

"Ho! Ho! Ho-oh, to the bottle I go-o, to heal my heart and drown my woe!

But under a tall tree I will lie, and let the clouds go sailing by,

Oh-o-ho-ho, ho-ho, ho-oh-oh-oh-oh-oooooh o-ho-ho-ho,

Ho! Ho! Ho-oh!"

"YOU TWO SHUT THE HELL UP!" A voice brayed loudly down the corridor. The person on the other side of the drain gave a small chuckle.

"Well-well, seems like I have a singing drinking buddy! Care to shout me a spot of fire whiskey?" said a face appearing on the other side of the drain.

"Sorry, I'm broke." Said Harry bemusedly, and it seemed she got the irony in his tone because she laughed.

"Damn! I've been craving a decent drink for a while now. But if you're broke I suppose I'll just have to remember you owe me one when we're out. I'd shake your hand in greeting but, well… anyway… I'm Lorrelli. Pleased to make your well sung acquaintance." She said cheerily. Harry couldn't distinguish her features well due to the poor lighting of both their cells, and neither could he pick her accent, but something in her tone made him warm to her. The one thing he could see clearly was the mass of red hair framing the shadowed face, and it put him in mind of a female Ron.

"I'm Harry. Wouldn't count on me living long enough to buy you even a butterbeer, but I'll put a note in my will."

They both laughed.

"D'you have anything to write or draw with? I'm dead bored in here, I need to draw to pass the time…" she said as though they were waiting in a Doctor's office or something. "What are you in here for?" Harry asked.

"Oh, long story. I'll tell you if you're not busy… by the way, you can call me Lor for short if you want, I always thought Lorrelli was a bit narky. Although, if you wanted, you could just call me 'hey you', seeing as there's no one here to get that mixed up with…"

Harry wasn't sure why this girl's voice made him forget his pain, but he was genuinely curious now. "Go on then Hey You, I'm not all that busy at the moment as it happens."

"Ok, well, I got here about… three days ago… I heard yelling and growling your end when I came to, they stuck me in here unconscious and I only woke up properly yesterday. Anyway, I'm here because there was a… ah… complication with my job… and you may have to just keep an open mind here because not many people believe me when I tell them…but I work for the Grim Reaper of all people… well, of all… beings…"

Harry was surprised to find he was not actually all that disbelieving of the revelation.

"Ok… you work for the Grim Reaper… what do you do?" He asked curiously.

Her tone seemed relieved that he'd believed her when she answered. "I'm a Demon Culler. My job is to go into their realms and make cutbacks when they get too numerous. Of course, they wouldn't exist if humans didn't manifest so much negative energy in the world… but anyway, I also deal with them when they cause havoc in the real world… and there was a whole lot of them recently that had teamed up with some dementors, because those are semi-demon, and they were wreaking havoc around stone-henge. And these were bad, I mean these guys really beat me up. I had to use several forms against them… oh, I'm an animorphagus by the way, change into various different animals…anyway, so, you know, stone-henge, unfortunately lots of muggle tourists, not much I could do. I save their assess but I'm pretty screwed over after it, and then low and behold the damn cavalry arrives and arrests me! Then they think, just because I have wings and a tail, which _I __can't help_ by the way, they classify me as a dangerous magical _creature!_ I mean come on! The Indian ministry has me on their Rakshasa register and everything, but will they listen? Noooo, they're the ministry, their word is law, so now I'm classified as some sort of mutated boggart who's apparently extremely dangerous and prone to trying to trick humans by taking this 'messed up human form'. Go figure!"

Harry lay silent for a moment, trying to decipher what exactly she had just said.

He couldn't.

"Uh… sorry…you're…a…a what?" he asked falteringly. She shifted and seemed embarrassed, she lay on her back and the light of her cell fell across her face. From what Harry could make out of her profile, she was only about his age and perhaps quite pretty. He also made out something black and feathered beside her.

"You… you really do have wings?" he said in astonishment. She smiled.

"Yeah… side effect of being a death minion apparently. And tail, but it's not too bad. I'm sorry, I'm not very good at explaining…" She said sadly. Harry was struck with the feeling that what he had heard was only scratching the surface. This was the strangest yet most intriguing person he had ever met, including Luna Lovegood. And the fact that she obviously hated the ministry as much as him made him like her all the more. "You sound like you've had as much ministry grief as me."

He saw her smile a little. "Yeah, well… when Voldemort's followers killed my parents… they covered it up. They denied it. And now they're using this as an excuse to silence me because Fudge-"

"Is a totally pigheaded fool who refuses to see the truth when it stares him in the face? Yeah, that's why I'm here too." Harry said bitterly. But he felt a little elated to think he wasn't alone and… hopefully wasn't going mad.

"My thoughts exactly." She said, and unless Harry was much mistaken, she actually growled like a wolf. So she really was a… whatever it was she had called herself…

"So, what animal… animals… do you turn into?" Harry asked curiously.

"Um, let's see… werewolf, by choice mind you…phoenix, unicorn, dragon, griffin, lion, fox, aaaaand… well I can do a few others sometimes like horse, dog, cat… but yes, nothing smaller than a fox i'm afraid, otherwise I wouldn't still be here…"

"Did, did you say dragon!? And… and Phoenix? Well… I suppose phoenix explains the good singing…"

She giggled, "Well, it's actually two dragons, but one's a Wyvern and I haven't really done it properly yet, but thanks… I've never actually been complimented on my forms before… you're not a bad singer yourself." She replied. Harry was a little taken aback. "You… think so? I don't… go off key all the time?"

"No, actually you've got pretty damn good pitch for someone who it transpires has never had lessons." She said earnestly. "You sound practiced though, been here long?"

"A week…" Harry answered wearily, "after another I'll be insane or dead, I'm sure."

Her face turned to him once more and was obscured again by darkness. "So… why are you here? I don't suppose you were just doing your job for Santa Claus and got arrested for sneaking down muggles chimneys…"

Harry laughed a little, half amused; half bitter and wishing that HAD been the case.

"No… a little more complicated than that. I tried to tell people the truth, that was all. But the ministry wouldn't have it, so they sent some psychopath named Delores Umbridge…"

He paused as she let out another growl.

"You know her then?"

"She's the one classifying me a boggart."

"Sounds like her alright… but yeah… we defy her, she targets me, locks me up, tortures me for information, that goes on a while, then she tries to scare the rest of the school into obeying her rules by using me as an example of what happens to those who don't… to cut a long story short, she tried to kill me, a rather exhausting chain of events ended with me being poisoned, and thinking I'm dying, I go and give her one last taste of her own medicine. Then of course, I wake up here and, well… she turned me into a werewolf about a month and a half ago, and just my luck, I'm allergic to wolfsbane. So now I'm a lab-rat for crazy scientists who inject me with the stuff and watch in interest as I rip myself to shreds. And that's about it really."

There was silence between them for a while.

"Do you think anyone will come for you?" Lorrelli asked quietly. Harry considered for a few moments. "If they can… yes… and if I get out… I won't leave you here…" Harry added, somehow knowing she would do the same…

"It's a deal then. Whoever gets out first frees the other… and it'll probably be you unless I find a way to get my wand back or break myself out…"

"You don't think anyone would come for you?" Harry asked, a little alarmed and saddened. He saw her profile in the light again… it looked suddenly older and wearier, even though she couldn't have been older than 16.

"No one will come for me. No one knows I'm here, and it isn't the Reaper's business, he can't meddle in the fate of his minions, some stupid cosmic rules… nope, no pack to come to a lone-wolf's rescue…" she gave a small and mirthless laugh. Harry barely made out that she was fighting back tears. Harry had no words to console her. He could not explain how he felt so strongly for someone he had just met. He reasoned it to be something to do with them being each others only company… some sort of trauma bonding… but Harry also knew there was just something about her, something that made him want to know her better. Something told him he could trust her…

"Well, I suppose we've got plenty of time to kill… know any more good songs for confinement?" she asked, rolling over and resting her head on crossed arms in front of her. Harry saw her stretch her wings up behind her and guessed from what he saw of them they were at least a 12ft span from wingtip to wingtip.

"Hmm… know any Jeff Buckley?" Harry asked.

"Uh… oh yeah… hmm, dunno if I feel like Jeff Buckley, bit too much rock… oh wait, do you know his Hallelujah?"

"Hell yeah." Harry replied. She laughed, "Ok…"

She rolled onto her back again and began miming the opening guitar lines and humming them. Harry started off, as it was comfortable to sing in his tone.

"Well I heard there was a secret chord, which David played and it pleased the lord, but you don't really care for music, do you?

Well it goes like this, the fourth, the fifth, the minor chord and the major lift, the baffled king composing hallelujah…"

Harry took over the air guitar and she sang the next verse.

"Well your faith was strong but you needed proof, you saw her bathing on the roof, her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you…

She tied you to her kitchen chair, she broke your throne and she cut your hair, from your lips she drew the hallelujah…"

They sung the chorus in unison, taking turns through the versus, every time Harry wanted his verse to be over because hearing her sent shivers down his spine unrelated to the cold… she wasn't just singing it… it was as if she knew exactly what every word meant, like she had experienced the whole story behind it.

They reached the end chorus when the door of Harry's cell burst open and their voices were cut short.

"Oh crap, here we go again…" Harry sighed morosely, almost apologetically to her before hands grabbed his upper arms and dragged him over to his hard, cold mattress. He was shoved down, and though he tensed, he did not dare struggle. He felt the familiar searing pain of the needle now in his neck and the wolfsbane that ran like fire through his veins.

About twenty minutes later, Harry lay on the floor in the middle of his cell, torn and bleeding and steadying his ragged breath…

He picked up the end chorus where they had left off… Lorrelli's voice came thickly through the grate again and they finished the song together at last…

"_Halleluuuuuuujaaaaah…"_


	8. Chapter 8

_Okay, firstly, the first two parts of this chapter are completely knew. As in, i typed them straight to computer and they were never made as part of the hardcopy original. I did it all for YOU, the readers, because ive had SOOOO many of you asking after sirius, that i thought ide better go into that._

_and by the way, IF ANYONE IS READING THIS WHO THINKS IT'S A STUPID WASTE OF TIME, DON'T STUPIDLY WASTE MY TIME WITH A BADLY WRITTEN SLAGGING REVIEW, YOU DON'T HAVE TO READ THIS YOU KNOW._

_THAT MEANS YOU SCHNUFF. _

_I'm afraid the form Dumbledor takes is not as remarkable as i had first plotted. I was going to have him polyjuice into snape to talk to minerva about what's been happening at the school in his absence, but then i thought he'd want to talk to snape about it too, he'd want to talk to both of them. Snape because he's close to Umbridge and saw Harry getting tortured, and McGonagall cause she's Harry's head of house and has access to Ron and Hermione and the lowdown on the happenings in Gryffindor tower. So i had him become the only teacher that it wouldn't seem wierd for him to be hanging around Snape and McGonagall while they have a match of chess. Why chess? Cause it's a cover, an excuse that Umbridge can believe, that Snape and McGonagall, rivals as they kinda are, would have a bout of chess to settle arguments. And because Umbridge thinks snape is on her side, she thinks he would stop flitwick and McGonagall putting their heads together over what went on with Harry. Plus i'm trying to be a clever little shit and use it as a kind of metaphot for what's happened and what's going to happen in the story, but if that confuses you, don't worry, it isn't terribly important.  
_

_Seeing as Umbridge is watching communications like a hawk, this polyjuice disguised Dumbledor meeting was the best way i could think of for them to communicate without ruining my plotline. And no walkie-talky mirrors, cause they aren't secure enough. _

_And then in comes Sirius :D and Remus! Yaaaaay! _

_I do hope you're all satisfied now, this was kinda fun to write, keeps my skills sharp and it's a nice break from slowly typing up poorly written pages (my handwritting is the suck) very slowly cause i can't touch-type XD_

_-Death out._

* * *

McGonagall and Snape walked side by side in stony silence up the winding cobble street, Minerva with a rectangular flat box under one arm. Neither seemed to feel the sunshine as it shone between the large grey clouds that drifted lazily over a pristine blue sky, threatening a downpour.

"Explain to me, Severus, how we are supposed to know who he is once we get there?"

Snape did not immediately answer. He glanced furtively around, before answering casually, "Professor Flitwick is taking a break from his office. He is marking his papers instead in the Headmaster's office. And by the way, i brewed up a rather fine batch of polyjuice potion recently... just for the sake of practice, of course."

McGonagall merely nodded at this otherwise unremarkable statement.

The two made their way into Hogsmead and headed straight for the three broomsticks. Snape proceeded McGonagall, heading for a table that, at first glance, seemed occupied by a child. But upon further inspection, the occupant was not a child at all. It was a rather small and wizened looking wizard with a long silver beard and purple pointed hat.

Flitwick gave Snape and McGonagall a rather serener smile than he normally would have as they sat down opposite each other on either side of him.

Madame Rosmerta, the pretty landlady of the inn, came over to the somewhat isolated table.

"What can I get you, professors?"

"Just three gillywaters, thank you." Snape replied curtly.

"You know, Severus, I don't think i've ever seen you drink anything alcoholic in here before." Flitwick said in a voice most unlike his usual excitable squeak as Rosmerta clicked away in her high heels.

Snape's lip curled slightly. "I prefer my wits fully about me." He said quietly, though not without a hint of impatience. McGonagall, meanwhile, had placed the rectangular box on the table and opened it up, to reveal a chessboard. She was setting up the pieces, the white on the side closest her, and the Black in front of Snape.

"I quite agree, this is not the time for loosing one's wits. I think you best start the game straight away, and explain everything as you go".

There was the click of heels again and Rosmerta appeared with a tray and three glasses full of bubbling, green tinged water with slices of lime on the edge of each.

"Thank you, Rosmerta." Said McGonagall as the woman flashed them a smile and clicked away again.

"Your move." Snape said blankly.

McGonagall moved a pawn.

"You should start from the beginning, Minerva, I never received the full details of what happened, just a vague piece of gossip from Mundungus." Flitwick said somewhat forebodingly as he observed Snape's counter-move.

McGonagall took a sip of her Gillywater and launched into the explanation of everything that had happened since Dumbledor had left, Snape interjecting when needed.

Flitwick's face fell more with each sip of his gillywater. It did not seem as if he were really seeing the game being played before him, so deep in thought was he.

"And then I spoke to Weasley and Granger, and they told me what they had pieced together. They've both been suspended, she has their wands… but she couldn't find Potters. They would not even tell me where it was, I'm sure they know, but they're not taking any chances…"

"Your Bishop."

"What?" McGonagall asked Flitwick, bewildered.

"Your Bishop, there, is in danger." Flitwick said a little disstractedly.

"Oh… yes, thank you Albus." She removed the Bishop from the warpath of Snape's Rook. "But Albus, they… they've arrested him. And as far as I can tell, he really did do it… he used the cruciatus curse on her. I fear our chance of discovering the truth by his account is gone… I also shudder to think what the ministry is doing with him now if Umbridge was able to torture him within the very walls of the school. We cannot let them keep him, Albus… they'll kill him, I'm sure they will, they may have already done so…" Her voice shook as her knight scuffled with Snape's queen. The Queen knocked the knight down after several blows and dragged it off the board.

"She has not yet killed him." Snape said calmly as his eyes flickered calculatingly around the board. "She has spoken of his condition to me. I do not doubt that killing him would be too kind a fate for her to consider."

"What do you mean, Severus?" Albus asked sharply, the grey-blue eyes of professor Flitwick somehow brighter and more piercing than normal.

"He is detained at the ministry, in the old cells beneath the courtrooms. She has given access to the NovusUnda Guild to use him as a test subject. His Wolfsbane allergy is of great interest to them."

McGonagall put her hand to her mouth and looked shocked as if she had just seen someone killed in front of her. Flitwick's face went very pale.

"Severus you… you don't mean to say…" McGonagall's voice shook so badly she couldn't say it. But Snape knew what her question was.

"They are dosing him almost every day from what Umbridge has said. She described the results they were recording as interesting," He said quietly as his bishop was taken by McGonagall's other knight.

"Oh god… Albus we cannot let them keep him there, I can only imagine how he must be suffering…"

"He will have to endure it a little longer." Albus said gravely.

"Headmaster, do you really believe he has enough strength to endure multiple forced, violent transformations for much longer? It has been a week, and judging by the state I last saw Potter in-"

"He will have to survive, Severus, we have no choice. Umbridge will not let him die now, of that I'm certain. I could of course free him, but we are in no position to treat him if we must also hide him. I do not wish him to have to go into hiding; I want him free without charges or a price on his head. To do this, I must prove he and I have been telling the truth for twelve months."

"You want to expose you-know-who to free him?" McGonagall said weakly.

"Yes, Minerva. It is the only way. When he is free, he will no longer have to deal with the pressure of the ministry bearing down on him, and that I am sure will aid his healing."

"If I may, I think perhaps you underestimate the damage that has been done to Potter… having seen inside his mind I can tell you that I do not set much store by the endurance of his mental health after what he has recently been put through. I do not think that he will escape this unscathed, and the longer he is there-"

"I do not think you put enough faith in the boy Severus. I have seen myself what he can endure-"

"But I fear that because you have not witnessed it you cannot understand exactly what it has done to him-"

"And I do not deny that no one could come out of such a thing unscathed in mind and body, but you have only ever seen him through biased eyes, Severus…"

There was a cold bite in Flitwick's voice that belied it was not the Charms Teacher, and all Snape saw in the grey-blue eyes was the piercing blue and the long crooked nose and half-moon spectacles, even though all were absent.

"I have been working to expose the Dark Lord for long enough now that Harry's strength need only stretch a little further. I know he will make it. And I am confident he will recover well on whole, his character is that of both his Father _and_ mother. They were fighters, as you well know Severus. Now, I believe Minerva is about to checkmate you, and we really should wrap up this meeting, as I need to go and stop Snuffles from doing something rash that we will all regret…"

Snape looked down at the chessboard with ill-disguised surprise to find that McGonagall had indeed checkmated him.

* * *

"You can't be serious," Sirius burst out, half angry, half appauled, "you really expect me to sit here while my godson is… is _mutilated_ by a pack of insane wizards and witches hell bent on making him rip himself to shreds?"

"Yes, Sirius. I don't expect you not to feel the need to save him from them as soon as possible, but I do expect you to trust me enough to leave the task to me." Dumbledor replied calmly as he stood near the mantelpiece of number twelve, Grimmauld place's kitchen.

"You can't ask me to do that, I-"

"You do not trust me, Sirius?"

Sirius mouthed at him a few times, "No, it's not an issue of trust, but I don't know what it is you intend to do, Dumbledor. You play your cards so close to your chest-"

"Sirius, let us not beat around the bush, I know very well you do not believe I have Harry's best interests at heart."

Sirius, who had been pacing, stopped at this point and looked Dumbledor straight in the piercing blue eyes.

"Alright, Dumbledor. No. I don't believe you have Harry's best interests at heart." He said, a little defiant. "It seems to me that he has been more of a pawn in your game against Voldemort, and against the ministry-"

"Sirius!" Remus said warningly. He had been sitting at the scrubbed wooden table, white as a bedsheet and very quiet, ever since Dumbledor had relayed news of Harry's fate to them. He was looking intensely between Sirius and Dumbledor, but Sirius ignored him and carried on.

"…And what's more, I'm not so sure you trust ME. You think I need an excuse to take a risk, to get out and stretch my legs?…"

"_Sirius"_ barked Remus.

Dumbledor's eyes were sparking. "Sirius I know what confinement does, I will not risk your safety as well as Harry's when you and I both know that you can be a loose canon If you don't watch yourself, and that is hardly going to help Ha-"

"You think I would ever let myself get carried away with Harry's safety at stake? Clearly, Dumbledor, you DON'T trust me, so tell me why I should trust you!"

Sirius knew he had gone too far. Part of him felt ashamed, after Dumbledor had helped him so much, had made sure he did not suffer a fate worse than death two years ago… but then another part resented the fact that he was being told what to do by a man who could not understand… and why should he trust Dumbledor, when he had let them get Harry last year… when Sirius would have given anything to be able to save Harry from that, but had only been around to try and help pick up the pieces… and even that he felt he had not done properly.

Dumbledor was pale, and his piercing blue eyes were aflame… he looked quite dangerous.

"Sirius. What reason do you have to believe I would WANT Harry to be in this situation? Do not think I do not know what is at stake here. How do you think it would help Harry if you went to help him only to get caught and have the dementors perform the kiss? That, I know, would be a harder blow to Harry than anything he has suffered hence. It is more for his sake, than mine, that I trust you will remain here."

He said in a quiet yet powerful tone. It felt like he was an explosion waiting to happen, but it never came. After a moment, he turned his gaze away from Sirius, nodded curtly to Remus, and swept out of the room.

Remus let out a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding.

"You should not have pushed him like that, Sirius." He said quietly.

Sirius gave a huffing sigh and threw himself into a chair across from Remus. He felt sick. He despised not being able to do anything, having to live with that sick feeling of worry…

"He will get him out, Sirius."

"But will… Remus… you know, about this sort of thing… can Harry stand it for much longer?" It was the worry pressing hardest on his mind, and the question tightened the knot in his stomache.

Remus seemed to have to consider for a moment. "It is more distressing to imagine than it is to experience. And knowing Harry… look, Sirius, I experienced it once a month. Harry is, from what I have heard, experiencing it almost every day. I have no doubt it will exhaust him physically, but if they are healing him as they go…I know Harry, he's made of stronger stuff than even I am. He is not about to be driven mad by being tortured this way very quickly."

"That's what I'm afraid of…" Sirius moaned, his voice slipping into anxiety. "I don't want this to be drawn out, I don't want him to have his sanity drawn out slowly, he doesn't deserve it… and I can't know when Dumbledor is planning to-"

"_Sirius the risk is too high!_ If you're caught-"

"If I'm not-"

"SIRIUS don't you understand! The mere fact that it's a possibility means the risk is too high! 'IF you aren't caught' is all well and good, but the price if you ARE is far too high… Sirius, please, I'm begging you, think, THINK what Harry would want! He's told you before, he wouldn't want you risking your neck for him if it meant you could get caught. For HIS sake, just listen to Dumbledor."

Sirius looked up into Remus' anxious face for a moment before he sighed resignedly and nodded. "Damnit Moony, why do you always have to be right?"

Remus gave him the flicker of a sad grin. "Don't worry, Sirius. I'm willing to bet that if Wolfsbane is all they're going to throw at Harry, he'll be able to tough it out. It can't get much worse than shifting backwards and forwards."

* * *

"How many people did you get onto?" Ron asked Neville as he closed the dormitory door behind him. Ron sat on the side of his bed, hand on his shoulder as he slowly rotated it. The wound had finally fully healed, though there was a sore greyish mark where the bullet hole had been.

Neville looked anxious, "Well… Ernie and Hannah won't talk to me, they're too scared, the inquisitorials got to them… so none of the other Hufflepuffs are interested either… the only Ravenclaw I could get was Luna… and… well… that's it… because Ginny couldn't get anyone else. She even threatened to Hex people if they didn't help but… well, they're more scared of Umbridge…"

Ron's stomach dropped. _Only five people… well, it only took three to get to the philosophers stone I suppose… and we've got better spells now, but… who knows what we'll be up against?_

Ron sighed and stood up, "Thanks Neville, you did your best."

"So… we're not going ahead with it now?" Neville asked, somewhat confused and disheartened. Ron's eyebrows shot up. "Of course we are! I just need to ask Hermione how we're going to pull this off…" he replied as he began to pace the room again, something he was prone to do several times a day when there was nothing else to distract him.

He was afraid he might be going a bit stir crazy, but that was not his biggest worry. He was more afraid of what Umbridge was doing to Harry… what if she drove him to a worse fate than death? What if she brought him to the same state as Neville's parents?

Neville seemed to be thinking the same thing… there was a strange fear in his eyes, and he was determined to go after Harry… he wanted as much as Ron and Hermione to save him from that fate.

"Where is Ginny?" Ron asked distractedly. Before Neville could answer, there was a loud CRACK! And Dobby appeared in the middle of the room.

"Sir! I has a message from Miss Granger…" he said. Ron stopped pacing instantly. "Whatd's she say?" he asked eagerly.

"She says Miss Wheezly told her there is only five of you going ahead with it, but she says she has a plan sir, and she knows when you must do it…" he said, wide eyed.

He proceeded to detail it to them… Ron didn't like how long they would have to wait, but it WAS their only shot…


	9. Chapter 9

_OHAI. Yes its still going, thanks to the absolutely lovely reviews ive gottenasking me to continue, how can i say no to my readers? I LOVE YOU GUYS YOU MAKE IT WORTH DOING. ._

_All those who are still reading this and wasting their time bagging it out, you're better off not wasting your own time, your comments are amusing i'll admit, but of no consequence whatsoever. Just so you know ._

_All those who are angered by Lorrelli's inclusin, i feel i must explain. She is NOT going to become a love interest for Harry, she is NOT going to become the fourth amigo, she is, in the character importance standing, at about the same level as Luna. Luna came in randomly halfway throguh the books, another important character doing the same thing is not therefore out of the question. Especially since she's not going to be by his side 24/7. I need her for the plot. YES, she gets attached to Harry, it's called trauma bonding, but he doesn't have feelings for her. I hope this puts your mind at ease, this is canon and Harry's love life will remain unchanged._

_Now, this, i have to tell you, is a pathetically short update, but it progresses the story nonetheless, and gives you a lovely cliffhanger :D i do love my cliffhangers. Anywho, i won't keep you any longer, because ide be suprissed if anyone even reads my author notes, so maybe keeping them short might make you guys more enclined to read them XD_

_anyways, love you all, Death Out_

_P.S. PNUEMONAULTRAMICROSCOPICSILICONVOLCANOCONIOSIS IS A REAL WORD. it's some kind of disease you can catch breathing too much volcanic sulphur fumes or something XD_

* * *

"You still alive?" Lorrelli asked for at least the twentieth time.

"Yeee- oh, wait…yyyyes, I am." Harry croaked back bemusedly.

_Unfortunately, _he thought to himself.

Lorrelli gave a short crackly laugh at his reply "had to check there for a minute? I know the feeling." He heard her shift around a little. "Uuugh… my head… I can't believe they STILL think I'm some kind of Boggart. I even quoted the longest word I know to convince them I had a fully human vocabulary."

"What was it? I wouldn't have heard, I was probably screaming too loud…"

"Pnumonaultramicroscopicsiliconvolcanoconiosis… granted they may suspect I made that up, not many people have heard of it, but still, do I SOUND like a Boggart? I would imagine they sound scarier"

"Well, you can sound pretty scary when you want to." Harry said mischievously.

"Oh, right, YOU growl more than I do and I'M the scary one? Pffft… these scientists are total tits"

"Yes, but not just because they can't tell a human from a boggart, they seem to have no souls either… torturing half-breeds…maybe they were experimenting on dementors and had their souls sucked out"

Or maybe they mutated them and had their brains sucked out" Lorrelli suggested.

They both laughed weakly.

They were a little sore and sorry, as both had been poked and cursed and made to change form one way or another during the day. The light of the windows was dimmed for night now, and neither talked anymore for falling asleep.

And neither's sleep was easy.

Harry's strange corridor dream had returned with vengeance…

Every night he would only get as far as the glittering room… he couldn't get into the room beyond it. The door was either locked or he was awoken by a scientist or guard before he reached it.

Harry had reached the dark blue room… he proceeded to the door ahead as always, and as usual the door yielded and he entered the glittering room.

A small part of him wanted to look around the room more closely, but a more urgent feeling drove him on…

His heart was racing with excitement. He tried the door and felt elated when it opened, at last.

He stepped into the next room, and found shelves, high and stretching on forever to either side of him… he needed to find something, but before he could start looking, there was a loud BANG!

Harry's eyes flew open and suddenly he found himself looking up at the dark ceiling of his cell. It was still night, but time hardly seemed to matter to these people anyway…

He glanced over at his door. They had hit it, Harry saw a guard and a scientist through the bars, leering and jeering. He could smell something strong and foul and realized they were drunk.

"Heeeeere wolfy wolfy wolfyyy! Haaaahahaha…" The guard cackled, holding a liquor bottle through the bars. Harry glared at them and looked back at the ceiling.

He heard them talking slurringly to one another outside.

"Will you two piss off, the boggart needs its metamorphic beauty sleep!" Lorrelli called out, irritated. Harry smiled faintly, but the guard yelled something incomprehensible back at her. Harry heard him shuffle away, then bang her door open and cast a spell. There was a yell and loud angry wolvish growling in response. Harry was suddenly very worried.

"Lorrelli!?" he called out anxiously. He went over to the drain. She did not respond to him, but he heard her conversing with the drunk guard on the other side after he slammed the door shut.

"Shut up Bitch!"

"So you think I'm a bitch NOW huh?"

Harry heard even louder growling and glimpsed a white paw as it passed the grate.

"You fuck'n freak!" The guard rasped, before casting a spell with rather good accuracy for someone so inebriated.

There was a yelp.

"Lorrelli??" Harry called again, his voice cracking. Again she did not answer, but continued conversing with the guard.

"To use that spell on me you'd have to be assuming I was human, so are you going to let me go now?"

The guard laughed hard. "I know you ain't no boggart, but ye still nuffn but a filthy animal… but even a filly like you is worth fuckin'!"

It was Lorrelli who laughed now, and then suddenly, she neighed. It rang around the cells and through Harry's ears. He barely heard the Guard's swearing over the neighs and hard clacks of hoof on stone.

There was a nicker of pain; Lorrelli had been forced back to human form again. There was another spell uttered and suddenly Lorrelli's back was in view.

She was on her side, wings semi folded behind her and Harry barely made out the ropes binding her. He could only assume from her lack of swearing that she was also gagged.

A wave of fear passed over Harry; he couldn't do anything to help her…

He heard the guard approach her. He dragged her out of sight, laughing. He must have removed her gag because she was suddenly yelling, swearing and growling loudly again.

"Better with sound, and ye'll be sing'n a nice weepy tune in a minute bi- AAAAGH!"

There were some particularly loud snarling noises as the guard cried out in shock and pain. Harry saw him stumble backwards past the drain, his tipsy feet unsteady as he retreated a safe distance from his prey.

"You little bitch!" he roared over her hard laughter.

"CRUCIO!"

"LORRELLI!" Harry called out, distraught, but there was nothing he could do… her screams pierced his ears and he was filled with rage.

"You bastard! You fucking bastard leave her alone! -" Harry began swearing viciously at the top of his lungs, voice breaking with the strain to be heard. He did not hear his own cell door open or the spell uttered under the cacophony of Lorelli's screams.

Suddenly, Harry was paralysed by some sort of body binding spell. He was on his back on the floor. The drunken scientist swayed over him, grinning stupidly.

"Tesht subjeck… bein' administratered… dubble dossse of wulfsbane…" he groggily dictated to a floating clipboard and blue quick quotes quill.

He had a syringe in his hand full to capacity with wolfsbane. He stuck his tongue between his teeth, steadied his dodgy aim, and jabbed the needle into the base of Harry's neck, where the werewolf had first bitten him.

The pain was excruciating, but somehow the drunken scientist had hit true (or more likely the needle was charmed to find its mark anyway) because Harry felt the fire of the overdose run like mercury through his veins.

His head was swimming… full of screams, full of hatred, full of the putrid alcohol smell, overwhelmed now with the agony…

With the binding spell, it was like over filling a structurally unstable dam, something was bound to go wrong.

Harry felt an intensely painful pressure build inside him. It broke through the body bind and released Harry's throat.

He screamed, the sound intensified by the echo of Lorrelli's screams. They filled Harry's head, triggering some strange fighting desire.

_I have to save her… I can't change…_

"CRUCIO!" he heard the guard again.

"Noooo! STOP!" Harry cried out in agony, against both the guard and his transformation.

His head was filled, his thoughts blinded by screams and smells and emotions and painful signals from his own body… a tangled mess…

And then the Dam broke.

Harry let out a long howl like cry.

A strange tingling wave of numbness overcame him, sweeping through him like electricity… Harry tensed, back arching.

Lorrelli stopped screaming and Harry blacked out, his last memory of a dull, aching pain consuming him.


	10. Chapter 10

_Okie dokie guys, heres something you can really sink your teeth into ;3 three times as long as chapter 9 (which was 1000 something words, this is 3000 something, i aint great at maths but thats a no brainer) and we finally hit a pivotal moment in the plot._

_This point will either make or break your enjoyment of this story. It may feel way too out of canon, or it may just take it where you want it to go, or where you never quite expected it to go. Either way, it's going there. _

_Warning, it does get song-ficcy a LOT in this chapter, but i did try to make it un-soppy. I may have failed, thats up to you ; keep in mind, while this was one of the last fics i started, it's quite old and when it comes to HP i get very n00by seeming sometimes, despite the fact im a veritable veteran, but at least i recognise my shortfalls rather than proclaim myself queen of the fandom and the next J.K (god knows i don't think i'de like to experience her life before HP went big, EVER ) i'm well aware that many elements of my HP writing style are way too wierd, but hey, thats the fun of fandom. And i DO do it for fun. But yea, please understand when i type this in word it looks different, the paragraph proximity looks better. Here it stretches out and becomes fragmented to read and seems a bit... off. I apologise for this, i am aware it eefects the reading of the story, but sorting it out would take too long and im just oo lazy so... yea sorry XD_

_And having re-read it here for editing it really doesn't seem very long / i'll try adn update again sooooon._

_Anyway. Not much else to say really, other than i hope you enjoy and appreciate a good few hours of typing, and putting up with a spell check that FAILS EPICLY. For example, checking this chapter, it threw up the sentance "-Harry are you OK?" and suggested "Harry is you OK?"_

_...grammar fail plz XD_

_Thank god im a 4 unit english graduate. Not that you'd know it sometimes (got confused with breath and breathe and which was pronounced what way XD )_

_Ok hope you like, keep the reviews coming in i LOVE to see what you think! ._

_Death out._

* * *

"Harry…"

"_Harry_…"

Someone was calling him… someone very far away…

He didn't want to move. It hurt… oh god it hurt…

"Harry, wake up, come on, I need to know you're ok… wake up! Please!"

The voice was almost pleading… Harry tried to oblige.

He opened his very heavy eyelids to see the pale 'dawn' light of his window across the ceiling. His whole body felt bruised and tender as though he'd had his entire skeleton re-grown overnight. He whined in pain…

_Whined?_

"Harry! Harry are you OK? What did they do to you?"

He heard Lorrelli's voice, distant and weak, croaky like his from screaming.

"I…I don't know" was all he could get out in reply. His mouth felt strange, but as far as he could tell he was human… wasn't he?

Harry gingerly moved his sore arms, bringing his hand to his face to make sure he didn't have a muzzle there where his face should be flat.

"WHAT THE-?" he exclaimed, catching sight of his hand. He raised both palms before his eyes, staring in disbelief…

"What is it?" Lorrelli called anxiously.

Harry couldn't answer. He was trying to discern what was wrong with him… his hands were black and grey, fingers ebony fading into light grey on the palms and wrists, covered in short thick fur like a dog's coat… and his nails had become _claws._

Harry sat up quickly, paying for it with a viciously stabbing headache. He put his furry hand to his head automatically but drew it away just as quickly… there was something wrong with his ear. He carefully felt the strange appendage that was now on the side of his head just above where his ear should have been. It was pointed and covered in velvety fur and he could swivel it forward and back… in fact he could move his ears independently of one another.

He looked down to see his feet were now elongated wolvish hind legs, and his upper legs were slightly shorter to compensate for the extra height the feet would give him (if he could even stand up on them, he thought).

Harry realized he was sitting on something, and it hurt. He reached behind him and his worst fears were confirmed. He felt what was undoubtedly his tail and let out a groan.

"Harry what the hell is it? Talk to me!" Lorrelli's voice came anxiously, if not impatiently, through the grate.

"I…I'm some sort of…half wolf." He replied, putting his throbbing head in his furry clawed hands. He realized, by running his tongue over his teeth, that it felt strange to talk because all his eyeteeth had elongated into fangs.

"What!? But…how did they?…What did they do?" She asked in confusion.

"That drunken scientist put me under a paralysis jinx and gave me a double dose of Wolfsbane… there was so much going on, I fought the effects too hard and… and it all screwed up…and now I'm stuck as this…_thing"_ Harry lamented, his head throbbing and body still aching.

"Are you sure you're stuck? You can't force it one way or the other?"

"I don't really know… how do I do that?"

"It's OK, I'll take you through it… if you ever wanted to become an animagi, I'm basically going to explain the technique you'd use to do it…"Lorrelli explained calmly.

Harry was a little surprised, but supposed if anyone knew how to change their form properly it was an animorphmagus…

She told him to lie on his mattress and then guided him through the method of change. It took Harry a while to grasp the concepts she was giving him, but he became confident enough to attempt to change back to human form.

He let his body go numb, ignored all feeling of it, lying absolutely still…

He felt the odd floaty sensation creep through him and tried to effect the change.

Blinding pain suddenly split his head and he yelped in agony.

"What happened what's wrong?" Lorrelli called anxiously, voice cracking.

"I can't… I can't do it, something's wrong and… it won't let me change back, the Wolf won't let me do it…"

"Perhaps you should try changing forward… but then you may be stuck as a wolf, and between wolf and half human I'd suggest not trying…"

"Yea… I don't really want to be stuck as a wolf. I suppose I can still talk and stuff so… maybe I'm lucky…" Harry said morosely as he sat up again rubbing his aching temples. His hand felt like some strange furry animal on his head as he ran it through his hair in frustration.

Suddenly, there was a noise in the corridor, and Harry found his wolf ears (which seemed to swivel towards sounds independent of his conscious control), picked up the conversation of those approaching.

"- Basically screwed up the entire experiment because you got pissed, and you're telling me it's not that bad?"

"Oh come on, it's like I told you, you wont be angry when you see-"

"What _exactly _did you do again?"

"I administered a double dose, and I logged it too, though… there may be a _few _spelling mistakes… it hardly matters."

"That remains to be seen…"

They burst into his cell, the woman and the formerly drunk scientist from the night before. He looked like he had a slight hangover, but it was nothing to what Harry had.

Harry growled automatically and stiffened, eyes fixed intensely on them. He realized he could make them out better in the dim light than before.

The woman's expression was like it had been the first time she had seen Harry. A horrible, hungry look. The man just looked smug and cruelly satisfied.

"What did I tell you?" he said coolly.

"It's magnificent…" she whispered in a voice to match her expression.

"_It?_ Gee thanks, I am still human somewhere you know." Harry said bitterly.

"Look! You see its teeth? Incredible! I shall have to make a full examination and documentation…" the man said enthusiastically, totally ignoring Harry's comment.

"Yes, you do that. With results like this, perhaps you should drink more often" she joked shrewdly, going to fetch her notebook.

"So I gather this is the part where you dissect me?" Harry said callously.

The wizard pointed his wand at Harry, paralyzing him once more.

"Not quite…" he said with a nasty smile. He lifted Harry off the ground, manipulating him with some sort of purely physical imperius curse. Harry couldn't fight this one off as he could the imperius, unfortunately.

The man now held him up in a position as though hanging him from the neck, head slightly up; arms slightly out from his body and legs slightly apart. All fully extended but limp rather than tense. Even though Harry felt anything BUT relaxed.

The Woman returned, ordinary quill poised over her note parchment.

"Begin" she said.

"Right… now then." The man waved his wand. Harry flushed with indignity as his tattered, bloodstained trousers were whisked off him. He would have made a noise in anger were he not silenced by the curse being worked upon him, suspending him in the air in nothing but his black briefs.

The wizard then proceeded to circle him. He picked up one of Harry's feet from behind, examining it like a farrier would a horse in need of new shoes. He called out notes about the change in anatomy, poking up Harry's calf muscle and, to Harry's discomfort and great dislike, his thighs, calling out all the unusual changes; shorter femurs, stronger wiry tendons, fading of fur into normal human skin and hair…

He then moved on to Harry's tail, a great source of fascination much to Harry's discomfort and irritation. He tugged it painfully a few times. What little expression Harry could show the woman picked up on and sneered.

After checking the flexibility of Harry's tail, he moved on to something Harry had not yet discovered… long hackles that came down his neck and ended level with where his shoulder blades did. Harry shivered internally as the scientist ran his fingers up Harry's spine, pushing his fur up the wrong way, quite literally. Apparently the hackles were at least 8 inches long in places. Then the scientist moved on to his ears, then teeth, then hands…

It was a long and humiliating process, before the wizard was done and released Harry from the curse, throwing his trousers back to him.

Harry sat hunched with cold and a feeling of violation, and glared coldly at them.

"One last thing…" said the scientist, looking down at Harry. "Does it hurt?" he asked blankly.

Harry stared back, a shadow seeming to pass behind his eyes.

"Yes." He said in a slightly strained voice.

And with that, they left. It was all just part of the job, following protocol, nothing was wrong to them. Harry felt a wave of cold pass through him as he hardened a little more inside again.

He pulled his trousers back on again and crawled over to the grate where he curled up against the wall, still feeling shamed and violated though he'd done nothing wrong.

Lorrelli talked to him a little more, asking what they had done. Harry gave short replies, and she did not push him, sensing his feelings on the matter. Eventually Harry lay down by the drain, still curled up, wolf-like, listening silently to Lorrelli sing some songs in languages he did not understand… but all of them somehow fit his morose mood perfectly.

Eventually, as he was drifting in and out of conscious thought and dosing, she sung in English. Harry let the words mull slowly through his head as her soothing alto tone made him forget where he was…

_Once there was a way… to get back homeward._

_Once there was a way_

_To get back home._

_Sleep pretty darling do not cry._

_And I will sing a lullaby…_

Harry wondered where his home was now. Come to think of it, how long had he been in here? How could he let himself loose that time, it was insane. Of course, he thought, Hogwarts was his home. But after the pain Umbridge had caused him there, could he still see it as a more welcoming place than the Dursley's home?

And then, this was all assuming he would ever get out of this situation alive…

There hadn't really ever been a way home from this place since they threw him in.

_Gooolden sluuumbers fill, your eeeeeyes,_

_Smiiiiles await you, when you rise._

_Sleep pretty darling do not cry._

_And I will sing a lullabyyyy…_

Harry wished he could sleep. He was so tired, but there was never any rest. His sleep was golden, in a way… the glittering room in his dreams was full of gold and crystal, he was sure… not that he ever examined it.

_Aaaand in the ennnd, the love you taaaake, is eeeequaaaal to the loooove…_

_You make._

_Goooooolden slumbers fill your eeeeyes…_

_Smiles await you when you riiiise._

_Sleep, pretty darling don't you cryyyy…_

_And I will sing a lullaby-yyyyy._

Harry wondered shrewdly what love he was taking or giving. Obviously not enough to stop him from getting landed in this situation. Love had no place down here, nor in any situation that involved him being tortured or experimented on, unless you counted the scientist's love of causing him grief. He had no love of pain, that was for sure. He enjoyed Lorrelli's company, and singing was good to keep his mind off what was going on, but did he love anything right now?

Immediately, two faces came into his mind. The first had a long nose, red hair, and, he remembered vividly and with a wince, had taken a bullet for him. If that wasn't love he didn't know what was. And Hermione… she had taken on Umbridge at wand point to protect him. Even down here, after their best efforts had failed to stay the ministries hand from reaching him, how could he not love them?

And what was more he felt a deep aching wrench his gut at the thought of them, because he was missing them…

He had no idea if he would ever see them again…

Harry realized Lorrelli had stopped singing. He turned his head slightly, frowning a little like a dog giving its owner puppy dog eyes, begging for just a few more scratches on the head. As soon as this image came to mind Harry winced at himself internally… he was thinking in animal analogies, canine ones at that. Was this his half form affecting his mind?

And thinking on the subject of canines… how would Sirius take this? Harry didn't wonder if he found out he'd probably storm into the ministry and curse everyone in sight… then after freeing Harry and assessing he was alright, make some sort of mischievous joke about his appearance. _The fleas are a killer aren't they? I'll have to lend you one of the collars I used I suppose _Sirius' imaginary sly voice rang through his mind. A small smile tweaked the edge of his mouth.

Lorrelli began singing again, and the tune she picked, though sadder than the last one, it eased his mind, along with his thoughts of those he still cared about, and he finally fell into cool darkness.

* * *

"Subject has ceased vomiting after injection and transformation…" The woman dictated, entering the cell again. Harry lay opposite the window, in its small beam of artificial light, clutching his chest which ached and bled.

With a few waves of her wand, the woman half healed the wounds so he would not loose too much blood, then replaced the bandaging on the crook of his left arm, which they had used as the injection sight that day. She then left and their voices faded from Harry's swimming head.

He could still hear others in Lorrelli's cell though. To distract himself from the pain within, he concentrated on their voices, his sensitive wolf ears picking up the conversation easily.

"-So it works? And… does that mean it IS human?"

"Not necessarily no, it imitates a human, therefore it takes on as much as their DNA, and therefore it is affected as a human would be."

"Err…right…"

The other laughed. "It's not human Dick, but it does a good impression… well, 'cept for the wings and tail."

"And… that other one… is he human or an animal just pretending as well?"

"Oh, well, he WAS human, dunno 'bout now though, it might have turned him. Want a look? He'll be pretty tendered up and tame right now." The man chuckled nastily again.

"Could I? Fantastic…" said Dick. He had a hungry tone Harry didn't like. And there was something familiar about that voice. Harry was sure he'd never heard it, but still… he had a bad feeling about the man.

Harry dragged himself up into a sitting position as he heard the lock outside click undone.

Then there was a distant noise. And it sounded pretty serious.

"What the Bloody?… Dick I better go check that out. You can have a squiz if you want, just keep your wand on him, you never know…" and with that the other left, running up the corridor.

Dick came in. Harry made out his features in the dark outside the strip of grey light in which he sat. He was weak chinned, had a simpery face and short, tightly curled black hair. His eyes were somewhat familiar, but Harry couldn't place it in the dim light.

Harry kept his eyes fixed on the stranger as he, without removing his gaze from Harry, closed and locked the door behind him. That hungry look gave Harry and overwhelmingly terrible foreboding feeling.

The man slowly walked forward, almost in a stalking manner, before he spoke.

"Well-well, Harry Potter… it's taken me a while to get this chance, but looking at you, you hardly need what I intend to give you… nevertheless, I shall still give it."

He said dangerously, drawing his wand.

Harry had no idea who he was or why he was there, but before he could respond or react, he was thrown against the wall under the window by an invisible force.

He was so taken by surprise he was winded and made no sound other than the thump as he fell to the floor. He chocked, gasping for air as his head swam, split with pain. He felt blood on his back where the stone wall had grazed him and it stung like hell.

He recovered air to his lungs and opened his streaming eyes to see the man standing over him with a sour expression.

"I'll teach you a lesson Potter. You'll pay for what you did to my mother."

It suddenly clicked… the horrible realization of who this man reminded Harry of…

"Umbridge?" he gasped painfully. The man's eyes narrowed and a cold, manic smile played on his lips.

Harry was suddenly thrown with double the force of the last curse, and cried out in agony as he hit the opposite wall with a loud sickening crack. One of his ribs had broken.

"Harry!?" came a startled croaky voice through the drain.

Harry rasped air in painfully.

"She tortured me… for months… before… I only… gave her… a taste... what she deserved" Harry wheezed, wincing with every breath. The man's face contorted with rage.

"Don't you DARE accuse my mother! She is an honorable woman, and you are a corruptive little piece of _filth _trying to besmirch her good name!" he spat, flinging Harry against the wall between his and Lorrelli's cells.

Harry crumpled on the floor, struggling to breathe, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth and his nose.

Lorrelli was yelling something with all her might down the corridor but Harry was too punch drunk to distinguish what she was saying.

Dick, it seemed, was not finished with Harry. He began slowly to mutter a curse that opened the scars of Harry's remaining whip wounds.

Harry cried out in earnest, unable to stop himself, it was unbearable. And Umbridge's son was drinking in his cries like elixir. He then raised Harry by the throat in a chocking spell, face set and sour as Harry struggled and gasped, his efforts futile…this man was going to kill him…

Darkness crept up on the edges of his mind, things became unclear, thoughts became broken and irrational… he heard nothing… saw nothing…

And suddenly he was released. He fell to the floor, gasping like a fish out of water, the sounds of yelling and struggling entering his consciousness.

"Umbridge what the hell are you doing! You're jeopardizing our research-"

"What the hell were you _thinking _letting him in here? _You're _the one who has jeopardized the experiment! Saxby, check him will you…"

Harry was turned on his side as he struggled to open his throat again to get a sufficient amount of air into his dangerously empty lungs. His crushed esophagus sprung open with a quick spell from Saxby. He lay shaking and wincing violently, rasping in air as Saxby checked him over, mending broken ribs and grazes from his being thrown against the walls of his cell. He did a patchy job of healing the opened whip wounds. Harry opened his streaming eyes to see them dragging the struggling, kicking Umbridge, who was livid faced, swearing and cursing Harry.

Harry closed his eyes as they all left him there, just catching fleeting snippets of conversation…

"-Boggart girl next door seems quite attached to him now, I mean did you hear that? It yelled for us, perhaps it does have semi-intelligent motives, like a jarvey or a leprechaun…"

"Just because I'm part Irish that does not make me a frigging Leprechaun! For the last damn time I'm human and I'm and animorph-bloody-magus!" Harry heard Lorrelli yell back angrily as their voices faded away.

Harry lay against the wall he had been at when Umbridge Junior had first come in. It was where he had been dropped, and he ached so much he did not want to move at all, not even to lay on his flimsy mattress instead.

"Harry? Are you alright? What happened?" Lorrelli's severely croaky voice came through the strangely buzzing silence.

"That guy… was Umbridge's son… and he… must have set up… planned to get in here… alone to… get to me. He wanted revenge… for his mother." Harry breathed bitterly, barely able to speak above a murmur for his sore chest and throat, his speech broken by his gasps for air.

Lorrelli swore bitterly. "Bloody DAMN that woman, if karma doesn't get her soon I'll have to step in…"

Harry laughed wheezily but stopped quickly because his ribs hurt like hell.

"You and me both… and she knows I mean it. She's dug her own grave. We've got nothing to lose because of her…" Harry replied.

They were silent for a while. Harry eventually became uncomfortable lying where he was. He got up slowly and moved very stiffly over to the wall next to the drain.

He sat with his back to the wall, one knee raised and his arm resting on it; his head leant back against the wall.

He heard Lorrelli's wings shuffle against the other side of the wall and she sighed.

Harry swallowed to clear his damaged throat a little. He didn't feel like talking. He felt like singing… he began with a tune that had come to mind and stuck in his head lying there in the dark… he felt Lorrelli would know it… and probably appreciate it. After all, it was his turn, since she had done all the singing yesterday…

"_I wanted you to know… that I love the way you laugh. I want to hold you high and steal your pain, away…"_

Harry sang out the entire verse, and right on cue, she joined him in the chorus and took up the second verse...

"_The worst is over now, and we can breathe again. I want to hold high and steal my pain, away. _

_There's so much left to learn, and no one left to fight. I want to hold you high and steal your pain…"_

Her voice, even breaking from it's strain, sent shivers down his spine… her manipulation of the words hit so close to home… and it only became more intense as they sung the chorus together again, Harry's pain seemed to ease as he fell into the music…

"'_Cause I'm broken, when I open, and I don't feel like,_

_ I am strong enough…_

_Because I'm broken, when i'm lonesome, and I don't feel right,_

_When you're gone away…_

'_Cause I'm broken, when im open, and I don't feel like, I am strong enough. 'Cause I'm broken,_

_when i'm lonesome,_

_and I don't feel right,_

_when you're gone away…_"

Their repeated choruses became more intense as they both allowed themselves to get lost in the song, until Harry trailed to the end…

"_You've gone away…_

_You don't feel me here,_

_Anymore…_"

It seemed the song died with regret, the echo of it remaining with them in their silent cells for the rest of the night.


	11. Chapter 11

_And here is the moment you've all been waiting for! And the oe i've been waiting for too..._

_Cause guess what._

_I finished the manuscript. Eeeeevrything i wrote by hand is now typed up.  
_

_I now write from the book. Yep, the story has reconnected with canon events, so you may see a lot of veeeeery familiar sentances XD they are direct quotes, but i chuck in my own small changes. Trust me it's not worth going through with the book and comparing to see what ive chucked in, just give all the credit to JK, i try to emulate her writing style as best i can anyway. Hopefully it makes for a smooth transition._

_Anywho, i have a question:_

_Ive come to realise my chapters are really actually quite short /_

_So what would you guys prefer, short chapters i chuck out rather frequently or long chapters that mean updates will be a little further apart?_

_s'up to you._

_anyways, hope you like this bit, and Yes Ron replaces harry in a bit of book quoting, you aren't going mad or over fangirly noticing that XD_

_Death Out._

* * *

Long after Harry was sure Lorrelli was asleep, he was pacing his cell, unable to sleep himself.

He was too awake, too aware, in too much pain and his senses just wouldn't shut-down. On the outside, he was bloody, thin and scar ridden. But otherwise, he was restrained, movements stiff, slow, a little awkward as he learned to walk on the tiptoe wolf paws. However, if one could see inside him, they may realize the absolute torment raging within him like a dark and violent storm, his mind sparking with constant, erratic electricity.

_Why has this all even happened to me? Have I done something wrong? Maybe in another life? Why is the universe so intent on making me suffer, at least if I deserved it I ought to know why… but then not knowing is probably my punishment…_

Harry sighed and ran a clawed hand through his hair for the twentieth time. He walked to the window, looking bitterly up at its blank dull glow before he tuned and walked over to his cell door.

He wrapped his hands around the bars and leant his head against them; the iron bars cool on his temples.

"Why is hell such a cold place?" he whispered to the silence.

Yet however cold it is, it will never feel as cold as I do inside now…

Harry's heart ached. He hated to be this way. He hated what they were making him… numb and hard and bitter inside… he _always _felt the coldness inside him now, like solid steel. Like a sword through him, stuck between his ribs… and some part of him even wished that it WAS a sword through him…

Everyone believes THEM now, no one will listen. Is it me? Is it really me? Can I not see what's so plain to everyone else…AM I mad?…Or has the world gone crazy and left me sane?

Harry sighed deeply. _I have all the questions, but with all the wrong answers…when will it end?… When will I end?_

…_Please let it finish, but I want it to finish where it began, all of this began…_

_I want HIM to come… I will not die in some dark hidden hole of the ministry, I will die fighting…_

Harry gave a small, sad… almost shrewd laugh. _Just like my dad. I should end the Potter line with a good tradition I suppose…_

* * *

The next day brought more tests for Harry and Lorrelli. Harry merely endured more high doses of Wolfsbane, which made him so ill he threw up bloody vomit three times before they gave him some tonic to keep him alive, but he could not eat the food they left him for fear of gut-wrenching pain and more throat burning vomiting.

Lorrelli however, did a lot of yelling and gave off a lot of angry sounding animal noises. Whatever they were doing upset her greatly, more, Harry sensed, than anything they had yet done to her.

Eventually, Harry gleaned she could not change into animal form at some point and ended up biting one of the scientists working on her. A wave of vicious anger flooded Harry as he heard them curse her in punishment. He hated being powerless to help her.

Harry was exhausted and bloody by the end of the day. It had been his worst so far. Eight transformations, eight self-mutilation sessions. He was scratched worse than ever all over his arms, his legs, his torso… and a particularly nasty scratch across the left side of his face. They had spent a little time half-healing these wounds so that they became merely shallow scratches, but that didn't stop them stinging like hell.

Harry had talked to Lorrelli when the scientists finally left. They had apparently made a potion capable of disabling her shifting abilities for up to three hours. They had also talked about clipping or plucking her wings and shaving her tail to better study her physiology, at which point she had bitten one of them violently and drawn blood. It made Harry laugh when she said she hoped she had given him rabies.

There was no laughter now though. Neither of them bothered trying to eat, they were too sore and ill from the days tests.

Harry sat hunched on his mattress, curled into himself, not moving except to shiver from the growing cold of the approaching night. His eyes stared bitterly and wearily at the blood stained stone floor. His hackles were raised, ears back, body aching all over. He didn't think he could stand this much longer. Two, maybe three more days like today and he would most likely go mad. But only because they wouldn't let him die before that happened.

A flame of anger licked his insides to think of Umbridge's face if she came to see him in such a broken, pitiful state. Maybe as a last resort he WOULD regress into his wolf and try to escape… or attack… at which point at least try to free Lorrelli like he promised. Harry just didn't know… all he could feel was an overwhelming hate for where he was, what was being done to him, and he thought morosely of how he had never really appreciated his level of freedom before now… not even when the Dursleys would lock him up was it THIS bad.

Harry whined slightly as his head throbbed, and he lay down facing the wall and remained curled up into himself.

He fell asleep in his exhaustion, but his sleep was far from restful.

He was walking along the cool, dark corridor again, walking with a firm and purposeful tread, his body wholly human again, he broke occasionally into a run, determined to reach his destination at last… The black door swung open for him as usual, and here he was in the circular room with its many doors…

Straight across the stone floor and through the second door… patches of dancing light on the walls and floor and that odd mechanical clicking, but no time to explore, he must hurry…

He jogged the last few feet to the third door, which swung open just like the others… Once again he was in the cathedral sized room full of shelves and glass spheres… his heart was beating very fast now… he was going to get there this time… when he reached row number ninety-seven he turned left and hurried along the aisle between two rows…

But there was a shape on the floor at the very end, a black shape moving on the floor like a wounded animal… Harry's stomach contracted with fear… with excitement…

A voice issued from his own mouth, a high, cold voice empty of any human kindness…

"Take it for me… lift it down, now… I cannot touch it… but you can…"

The black shape on the floor shifted a little. Harry saw a long fingered white hand clutching a wand rise at the end of his own arm… heard the high, cold voice say _"Crucio!"_

The man on the floor let out a scream of pain, attempted to stand but fell back, writhing. Harry was laughing. He raised his wand, the curse lifted and the figure groaned and became motionless.

"Lord Voldemort is waiting…"

Very slowly, his arms trembling, the man on the ground raised his shoulders a few inches and lifted his head. His face was bloodstained and gaunt, twisted in pain yet rigid with defiance…

"You'll have to kill me," whispered Sirius.

"Undoubtedly I shall in the end," said the cold voice. "But you will fetch it for me first, Black… you think you have felt pain thus far? Think again… we have hours ahead of us and nobody to hear you scream…"

But somebody screamed as Voldemort lowered his wand again; somebody yelled and it reverberated deafeningly around the cells.

Harry awoke, still yelling as he rolled onto the cold stone, his scar on fire.

* * *

"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business."

"Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger," Ron said very quickly, "Ginny Weasley, Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood… we're here to save someone, just try and stop us!"

"Thank you," said the cool female voice. "Visitors, please take the badges and attach them to the front of your robes."

Five badges slid out of the metal chute where return coins normally appeared. Hermione scooped them up and handed them mutely to Ron over Ginny's head; he glanced at the top-most one, _Ron Weasley, rescue mission._

"Visitors to the Ministry, you are required to submit to a search and present your wands for registration at the security desk, which is located at the far end of the Atrium."

"Fine!" Ron said loudly as he felt a wave of adrenalin at the prospect of a fight. "Now can we _move?_"

The floor of the telephone box shuddered and the pavement rose up past it's glass windows; the rubbish being chewed on and tossed by invisible thestrals was sliding out of sight. The blackness closed over their heads and with a dull grinding noise they sank down into the depths of the Ministry of Magic.

A Chink of soft Golden light hit their feet and, widening, rose up their bodies. Ron bent his knees and held his wand as ready as he could in such cramped conditions as he peered through the glass to se whether anybody was waiting for them in the Atrium. But it seemed to be completely empty. The light was dimmer than it had been by day from what Ron ever remembered of the Ministry, and there were no fires burning under the mantelpieces set into the walls, but as the lift slid smoothly to a halt he saw that golden symbols continued to twist sinuously in the dark blue ceiling.

"The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant evening," said the woman's voice.  
The door of the telephone box burst open; Ron toppled out of it, closely followed by Neville and Luna. The only good sound in the Atrium was the steady rush of water from the golden fountain, where jets from the wands of the witch and wizard, the point of the centaurs arrow, the tip of the goblin's hat and the house-elf's ears continued to gush into the surrounding pool.

"Come on," said Ron quietly and the five of them sprinted off down the hall, Ron in the lead, past the fountain towards the desk where the watch wizard who weighed wands usually sat, which was now deserted.

Ron felt sure there ought to be a security person there; sure their absence was an ominous sign…

Who knew if Umbridge had already killed Harry, and Fudge was keeping it quiet, hoping no one would notice…

Well, THEY would notice, thought Ron, and they would certainly NOT keep it quiet…

But Ron prayed to as he stabbed the 'down' button of the lifts, that they would be leaving that night with a live Harry…

* * *

"Voldemort's got Sirius."

"_What?_"

"I saw it. Just now. I fell asleep and-"

"I know I saw it too…"

"_WHAT?_"

"I had the same dream, a sight dream, which means-"

"Wait how did _you_ see it too?"

"It's part of my sixth sense, I have some mild, random psychic abilities, I pick up real stuff happening or going to happen when I'm dreaming… and that… that was the department-"

"Of Mysteries… how did you know?..."

"My parents were unspeakables… but how did YOU get the dream… wait, maybe it's a side effect of your super lycanthropy…"

"No, I've been dreaming the same thing all year, trying to get to that same room…"

"Aaah, you seemed to know where you were going… but, Sirius, that means he's only somewhere above us…"

"And I can't do anything!" Harry said loudly in despair, punching his mattress as he sat hunched and shaking, facing his cell door. Lorrelli swore loudly, "If they hadn't of used more of that disabling potion I could try and change into a Wyvern and break out… not that I would have much chance of succeeding, but I can't even do _anything_ now!" she growled in frustration, "If I only I could…" she stopped Abruptly.

Harry heard it too… footsteps, lots of them, headed down their way. Maybe Voldemort had brought Death eaters and that was them coming to kill him… it would be all over, he couldn't do anything for Sirius… a wave of cold dread made his hackles stand on edge and he stiffened in readiness for his attackers.

"Harry!?"

The voice sent mixed shock and relief through him. Harry struggled to find his voice.

"Ron?" he replied in a slightly higher voice than usual. He was frozen with disbelief, hunched, sitting cross-legged in the corner on his mattress; he stared at the door as a bright light was shone through it.

"Hold on Harry, we'll get you out!" Ron called. Harry heard Hermione utter a spell and the cell door was burst out off its hinges. Suddenly, wand light illuminated the doorway and entered the room. Harry squinted against it for a moment. Ron and Hermione stepped into the cell, wands aloft and mouths agape, shocked and horrified by what they saw.

The three stared at each other for a few moments (if Harry could count his squinting through the light as staring) before Hermione flung herself forward and embraced Harry tightly.

"Oh Harry! We were afraid she had killed you!" She moaned anxiously. Harry winced at her touch; he was still very sore and tender from experiments. Ron came over and held out his robes to the freezing, bare-chested Harry. His expression was still one of horrified pity. "What have they done to you mate?" he said in a rather strangled, hushed voice. Hermione let go of Harry and looked at his face, her eyes glistening with tears.

Harry took the robes Ron offered him and put them on, trying to avoid Hermione's gaze.

"Using me as a lab rat and pumping me full of Wolfsbane… you doing alright?" Harry answered, getting shakily to his feet. He saw Hermione eyeing his transformed feet and hands with a slightly horrified expression.

"We're doing alright now we've got you, now come on! We have to get out of here in case-"

"We can't leave." Harry said quickly.

"_What?_ But Harry-"

"Sirius is here. Voldemort has him trapped, upstairs…"

"Harry, how do you know…"

"I saw it, just now, and I know it was real because so did Lorrelli…"

Hermione looked at him, alarmed, and Ron exchanged a look with her as though worried Harry had gone mad.

"Err… Who's Lorrelli?"

"Lorrelli Meekings?" Piped up Luna Lovegood, and Harry jumped as she entered the cell with a vague expression, looking at him.

"Luna?" Came Lorrelli's surprised voice through the drain, and Ron and Hermione jumped because they seemed to believe they were hearing Harry's voices.

"You two know each other?" Harry asked the wall quizzically.

"We're second cousins… small wizarding world eh?"

"By the way Harry, here's your wand, we- _Holy Harpies!_" Neville now came in and stood, holding out Harry's wand, mouth agape with shock. As Neville took in Harry's appearance, it seemed Luna too finally realized what he looked like. Her already large eyes grew, if possible, even larger, but she made no comment. Harry ignored their reactions. "Thanks," he said, stepping forward and taking his wand before swiftly stepping out of his cell and coming to the door of the one next to his.

He had blasted open the door before the others had even all left his cell. He went to light his wand, but Lorrelli said "_Don't!_" in a slightly panicked voice.

Harry, as it was, didn't really need the light, as his half-wolf eyes could see her in enough detail even in the dim light.

He stepped a little closer, his claws clicking on the stone floor. He could see she was hunched with her knees drawn up to her chest, arms tight around them, ankles crossed, wings huddled around her sides and tail wrapped tightly around her. She tried to remain in darkness under her window, because they had, Harry realize, left her without clothes. Harry's ears flattened in alarm and sympathy. He went out into the corridor and asked Hermione if he could borrow her robes. Hermione obligingly took them off and handed them to him with an enquiring expression but Harry merely gave her a meaningful look before he turned and went back into Lorrelli's cell. He went over to her, seeing her shinning eyes watch him apprehensively as he came to her side and draped the robes over her shoulders. She gave him a greatful smile and he turned away as she slipped the robes on.

"You OK?" Harry asked gently.

"I am now, thank you… _Harry Potter_" she said quietly as she got up, adjusting the robes to fit over her tightly folded wings, clutching the folds closed at the front. Harry had not even thought… he had never told her who he was exactly, and this was, really, the first time they had properly seen each other (albeit in the dark, as they both still were)."I Just need my wand and I'll have some dignity again." She said as she followed him out of the cell.

"Where is it?" Harry asked. "Probably under lock and key at the wand wizard's desk…" she said, trailing off with a nervous smile as she emerged to see Ron, Hermione, Neville and Luna all looking at her curiously. Harry looked back at her, and in the light, he realized she was not the female Ron he had imagined.

Her skin was paler, she was not particularly tall, she had more stand-outish freckles than any of the Weasleys, her Auburn hair was a large mass of messy loose curls that just barely reached her shoulders, her nose was slim and features fair, and her eyes were a sea like blue-green-grey. She smiled nervously. "Uuuh… hi…"

"Hello!" said Luna brightly, grinning and adding in a conversational tone, "My father thought you were dead."

Lorrelli raised her eyebrows. "Oh, well, nice to see how much faith my uncle has in me…"

"Come on, let's get your wand," said Harry, leading them out hurriedly, even though he wasn't quite sure where they were… he had a fairly good idea.

When he emerged through the door at the top of the stairs, another voice met his ears.

"AH! Oh!...H-Harry?… you're… you're alright then?" said Ginny, trying to discern if this creature actually was still him. Harry frowned. "How many of you came?" he asked anxiously.

"Just me left on guard, why? Oh and hi Ginny, thanks for helping rescue me." She replied coolly, frowning in confusion and slight annoyance as Lorrelli emerged behind Harry, wrapped in Hermione's robes and looking misshapen for the wings concealed beneath it. She flashed Ginny a nervous grin. Ginny did not reciprocate.

"Where's the… nevermind, I see where we are now… huh, so that was the old prisoner cells…" Harry muttered, recognizing the corridor with a jolt, and against his desperate urge to find Sirius, he headed for the lifts instead of the black door he had seen in his dreams.

Lorrelli caught his shoulder and he turned to her, "You go, I'll catch up… He needs you, I can get my wand on my own."

"Thanks." Harry said as she got into the lift. He then headed down the corridor at a jog, the others in tow.

"Explain to me again how you know Sirius is here?" Hermione asked anxiously.

"Sirius is here?" Ginny said, bewildered, glancing quizzically at her brother, who shrugged.

Harry turned to Hermione, his clawed hand resting on the black door. "Because I saw it in a dream, only it wasn't a dream, Lorrelli saw it too… she's got a sixth sense, she says she can see things as they're _happening!_ It happened with Ron's dad, right here… and I just…WE just saw Voldemort torturing Sirius in the department of mysteries… he said he was going to kill him! Now come on, we can't waste any more time!"

"Oh, so saving you was just a waste of time was it? Maybe we should've just left you then..." said Ginny bitterly. Harry's ears went flat to his head. "I didn't mean that…" he said, slightly hurt at her tone. "Ok, listen…"said Harry, still not pushing open the door, "Maybe… maybe a couple of people should stay here as a- as a lookout, and-"

"And how're we going to let you know something's coming?" asked Ginny, eyebrows raised. "You could be miles away."

"We're coming with you, Harry," said Neville.

"Let's get on with it." Said Ron firmly.

Harry still did not want to take them all with him, but it seemed he had no choice… after all, they HAD come all this way to save him... he hadn't expected they would take no for an answer.

"By the way, how's your friend going to find us in there? I doubt the Department of Mysteries is a very small place." Ginny commented coolly. Harry frowned, he wasn't sure what the cause of her tone was, but he answered nonetheless. "Her parents were unspeakables… I suppose she might have been here before" he shrugged.

"Oh… right" she said in a rather unconvinced way. Harry chose to ignore it. He had more pressing issues to deal with than Ginny's strange mood.

Harry pushed the door… just as it had in his dream, it swung open and he padded over the threshold, the others at his furry heels.

They were standing in a large, circular room. Everything in here was black including the floor and ceiling; identical, unmarked, handleless black doors were set at intervals all around the black walls, interspersed with branches of candles who's flames burned blue; their cool, shimmering light reflected in the shinning marble floor made it look as though there were dark water underfoot.

"Someone shut the door," Harry muttered. He regretted giving this order the moment Neville had obeyed it. Without the long chink of light from the torch lit corridor behind them, the place became so dark that for a moment the only things they could see were the bunches of shivering blue flames on the walls and their ghostly reflections in the floor. Harry's ears laid flat.

In his dream, Harry had always walked purposefully across this room to the door immediately opposite the entrance and walked on. But there were around a dozen doors here. Just as he was gazing ahead at the doors opposite him, trying to decide which one was the right one, there was a great rumbling noise and the candles began to move sideways. The circular room was rotating.

Hermione grabbed Harry's arm as though frightened the floor might move too, but it did not. Harry did wince violently, as she had grabbed the very bruised crook of his arm where he had been injected with Wolfsbane several times. An involuntary whine escaped him and she let go. For a few seconds the blue flames around them were blurred to resemble neon lines as the wall sped around; then, quite as suddenly as it had started, the rumbling stopped and everything became stationary once again.

Harry's eyes had blue streaks burned into them, it was all he could see.

"What was that about?" whispered Ron fearfully.

"I think it was to stop us knowing which door we came in through… nice of your friend to tell us about it." Ginny said in a hushed yet snide voice.

Harry frowned, he realized at once she was right; he could no sooner identify the exit door than locate an ant on the jet-black floor; _and _the door through which they needed to proceed could be any one of a dozen surrounding them.

"How're we going to get back out?" said Neville uncomfortably.

"Well, that doesn't matter now," said Harry forcefully, blinking to try and ease the blue lines from his vision, which was quickly returning to normal… or more, what had become normal for his half-wolf form. Every detail of the room was in sharper focus than it should have been. Perhaps he even might be able to spot an ant in this room if there were one. Harry clutched his wand tighter than ever, "we won't need to get out till we've found Sirius-"

"Don't go calling for him, though!" Hermione said urgently; but Harry had never needed her advice less, his instinct was to keep as quiet as possible.

"Where do we go, then, Harry?" Ron asked.

Harry bit his lip and swallowed, frowning. "In the dreams I went through the door at the end of the corridor from the lifts into a dark room- that's this one- and then I went through another door into a room that kind of… glitters. We should try a few doors," he said hastily, "I'll know the right way when I see it. C'mon."

He strided straight towards the door now facing him, the others following close behind him, set his left hand against it's cool, shining surface, raised his wand ready to strike the moment it opened, and pushed.

It swung open easily.


	12. Chapter 12

HALLAW.

_yea so hi. haven't updated in ages. Some of my critics may be happy for that and likely will be wasting their lives jumping up and down in joy going 'yay because i gave her a stupidly worded shitty review she has stopped writting more!'_

_That's just what i WANT you to think._

_Sorry buddy, you don't like it, don't read it, cause i got a whoooole lot more to write._

_At the moment however, im happy to accept criticism that i will most likely get simply because most of this update is me re-writing one or two chapters of the actual book (which is harder than it sounds, not being a touchtypist and all ) which is necessary to bring the story back onto the book timeline and mesh it, seeing as it is an AU after all, and therefore is still connected to cannon events._

_but anyway. 6 pages on Word probably doesn't amount to much here, ive written longer essays than this chapter :/, but they were full of waffling crap about art for uni, so probably easier to write than this has been XD_

_I'm going to say it now though, I TAKE NO CREDIT FOR THIS CHAPTER, SEEING AS %80 OF IT IS JK'S OWN WORDS. IT IS NECESSARY FOR THE STORY FOR ME TO COPY THIS BIT, IM NOT BEING LAZY. IF I WERE LAZY I WOULD WRITE IT FROM VAGUE MEMORY AND IT WOULD BE CRAP...ER. lol_

_slow progress is slooooow. But it IS progress. Hope you all had a lovely christmas and New Years, i know i didn't. If you didn't, and you like this story, i hope this is a nice late present for you :3_

_If you hate this story, why the hell have you gone all the way to chapter 12?_

_Oh, wait, redundant question. I mean, i read the first three Twilight books, not for enjoyment, but so i could educately bag them out XD knowing firsthand how poorly executed that could-have-been-decent plotline was. But hell i know my writing is sub-par really. trust me. If i could be BOTHERED re-editing my stuff, you wouldn't know what bloody hit ya XD_

_k deathoutyo._

_P.S. it's hard to concentrate on copying and modifying a book after a can of smirnoff double black ice XD_

_P.P.S. if you even read these authors notes then i love you forever  
_

* * *

After the darkness of the first room, the lamps hanging low on the golden chains from this ceiling gave the impression that this long rectangular room was much brighter, though there were no glittering, shimmering lights as Harry had seen in his dreams. Harry switched his ears unconsciously back and forth, senses on edge to catch any sudden noise or attacker, but the room was quite empty except for a few desks and, in the very middle of the room, an enormous glass tank of deep green liquid, big enough for all of them to swim in. A number of pearly-white objects were drifting around lazily in it.

"What're those things?" whispered Ron.

"Dunno," said Harry, taking in long slow breaths through his nose and picking up the sickly sweet scent the pearly things in the tank were giving off. He wasn't sure how he knew it was those he could smell specifically, but he didn't have the time or inclination to care.

"Are they fish?" breathed Ginny, her tone having faded completely upon entering the room.

"Aquavirius Maggots!" said Luna excitedly. "Dad said the Ministry were breeding-"

"No," said Hermione. She sounded odd. She moved forward to look through the side of the tank. "They're brains."

"_Brains?_"

"Yes… I wonder what they're doing with them?"

Harry joined her at the tank. Sure enough, there could be no mistake now he saw them at close quarters. Glimmering eerily, they drifted in and out of sight in the depths of the green liquid, looking something like slimy cauliflowers.

"Let's get out of here," said Harry. "This isn't right, we need to try another door."

"There are doors here, too," said Ron, pointing around the walls.

Harry's heart sank; how big was this place?

"In my dream I went through that dark room into the second one," he said. "I think we should go back and try from there."

So they hurried back, Harry's clawed feet clicking in what seemed a very conspicuously loud way to him as he padded after the others, back into the dark, circular room. The ghostly shapes of the brains were now swimming before Harry's eyes instead of the blue candle flames.

"Wait!" said Hermione sharply, as Luna made to close the door of the brain room behind them. "_Flagrate!_"

She drew her wand in midair and a fiery 'X' appeared on the door. No sooner had the door clicked shut behind them than there was a great rumbling, and once again the wall began to revolve very fast, but now there was a great red-gold blur in amongst the faint blue and, when all became still again, the fiery cross still burned, showing the door they had already tried.

"Good thinking," said Harry. "OK, let's try this one-"

Again, he padded over to the door directly facing him and pushed it open, his wand still raised, the others at his heels.

This room was larger than the last, dimly lit and rectangular, and the center of it was sunken, forming a great stone pit some twenty feet deep. They were standing on the topmost tier of what seemed to be stone benches running all around the room and descending in steep steps like an amphitheatre, or the courtroom in which Harry had been tried by the Wizengamot. Instead of a chained chair, however, there was a raised stone dais in the center of the pit, on which stood a stone archway that looked so ancient, cracked and crumbling that Harry was amazed the thing was still standing.

Unsupported by any surrounding wall, the archway was hung with a tattered black curtain or veil which, despite the complete stillness of the cold surrounding air, was fluttering very slightly as though it had just been touched.

Harry suddenly released a deep growl, hearing the others jump behind him in alarm, but he didn't care. "Who's there?" said Harry, jumping down on to the bench below and remaining in a slight crouch, muscles tense in an almost predatory stance.

There was no answering voice but the veil continued to flutter and sway.

"Careful!" whispered Hermione.

"What's HE got to be careful for? He's half werewolf Hermione!" Ron scoffed nervously, but Harry was not paying much attention to them.

He jumped down the benches one by one until he reached the stone bottom of the sunken pit. His clawed footsteps echoed loudly as he walked slowly towards the dais. The pointed archway looked much taller from where he now stood than it had when he'd been looking down on it from above. Still the veil swayed gently, as though somebody had just passed through it.

"Sirius?" Harry spoke again, but more quietly now that he was nearer. He could feel his long hackles standing on end under Ron's cloak and he had his ears flat back against his head.

He had the strangest feeling that there was someone standing right behind the veil on the other side of the archway. Gripping his wand very tightly, he edged around the dais, toes tensed up to stop his claws clacking too loudly on the floor. But there was nobody there; all that could be seen was the other side of the tattered black veil.

"Let's go," called Hermione from halfway up the stone steps. "This isn't right, Harry, come on, let's go."

She sounded scared, much more scared than she had in the room where the brains swam, yet Harry thought the archway had a kind of beauty about it, old though it was. The gently rippling veil intrigued him; he felt a very strong inclination to climb up on the dais and walk through it.

"Harry, let's go, OK?" said Hermione more forcefully.

"OK," he said, but did not move. He had just heard something. He swiveled his ears forward, perfectly still, listening… there were faint whispering, murmuring noises coming from the other side of the veil.

"What are you saying?" he growled, very loudly, so that his words echoed all around the stone benches.

"Nobody's talking, Harry!" said Hermione, now moving over to him cautiously.

"Someone's whispering behind there," he said, moving away from her and continuing to frown at the veil. "Is that you, Ron?"

"I'm here, mate," said Ron, appearing around the side of the archway.

"Can't anyone else hear it?" Harry demanded a little desperately, for the whispering and murmuring was becoming louder; without really meaning to put it there, he found his foot was on the dais.

"I can hear them too," breathed Luna, joining them around the side of the archway and gazing at the swaying veil. 'There are people _in there!_"

"What do you mean, '_in there_'?" demanded Hermione, jumping down from the bottom step and sounding angrier than the occasion warranted, "There isn't any '_in there_', it's just an archway, there's no room for anybody to be there. Harry, stop it, come away-"

She grabbed his arm and pulled, but he resisted with more strength than she expected.

"Harry, we are supposed to be here for Sirius!" she said in a high-pitched, strained voice.

"Sirius," Harry replied, still gazing, mesmerized, at the continuously swaying veil. "Yeah…'

Something finally slid back into place in his brain; _Sirius_, captured, bound and tortured, and he was staring at this archway…

He took several paces back from the dais and wrenched his eyes from the veil. He opened his mouth but promptly doubled over in pain with a yelp.

"Harry!" Hermione was by his side in a heartbeat, but as fast as the pain had come, it vanished. "Harry, are you-"

"I'm fine, it's just the wolfsbane, happens a lot. Let's go," he said shortly. Harry had no idea what exactly had just happened, but he didn't care, it was not his priority right now, he just had to get away from this arch.

"That's what I've been trying to- well, come on… if you're SURE you're-"

"I told you, I'm fine now."

Hermione shot him a strange, half scared, half concerned look, before she turned and led the way back around the dais. On the other side, Ginny and Neville were staring, apparently entranced, at the veil too. Without speaking, Hermione took hold of Ginny's arm, Ron grabbed Neville's, and they marched them firmly back to the lowest stone bench and clambered all the way back up to the door.

"What d'you reckon that arch was?" Harry asked Hermione as they regained the dark circular room.

"I don't know, but whatever it was, it was dangerous," she said firmly, again inscribing a fiery cross on the door.

Once more, the wall span and became still again. Harry approached another door at random and pushed. It did not move.

"What's wrong?" said Hermione.

It's… locked…" said Harry, throwing his meager weight at the door, but (not surprisingly, he thought) it didn't budge. And his bruised shoulder ached for his trouble.

"This is it, then, isn't it?" said Ron excitedly, taking over Harry's place in attempting to force the door open. "Bound to be!"

"Get out of the way!" said Hermione sharply. She pointed her wand at the place where the lock would have been on an ordinary door and said "_Alohomora!_"

Nothing happened.

"Sirius's knife!" said Ron. Harry looked at him in quizzical surprise. "Harry, I hope you don't mind, I brought it along… thought it might be useful getting you out, it's in the right… no, sorry, the left pocket," Ron explained.

"Good thinking… no offense to Hermione's wand-work, of course," Harry said with the flicker of a grin. Sure enough, when Harry plunged his hand into the left pocket of Ron's robes, he found his knife and wrapped his clawed fingers around it. He took it out of the pocket, carefully switched open the blade and slid it into the crack between the door and the wall. The others all watched eagerly as he ran it from top to bottom, withdrew it and then pushed his palms flat against the door, throwing his weight at the door in a more controlled manner this time. It remained as firmly shut as ever. What was more, when Harry looked down at the knife, he saw the blade had melted.

"Right, we're leaving that room," said Hermione decisively.

"But what if that's the one?" said Ron, staring at it with a mixture of apprehension and longing.

"It can't be, Harry could get through all the doors in his dream," said Hermione, marking the door with another fiery cross as Harry replaced the now-useless handle of Sirius's knife in Ron's left pocket.

"You know what could be in there?" said Luna eagerly, as the wall started to spin yet again.

"Something blibbering, no doubt," said Hermione under her breath and Neville gave a nervous little laugh.

The wall slid to a halt and Harry, with a feeling of increasing desperation, pushed the next door open.

"_This is it!_"

He knew at once by the beautiful, dancing, diamond-sparkling light. As Harry's eyes became accustomed to the brilliant glare, he saw clocks gleaming from every surface, large and small, grandfather and carriage, hanging in spaces between the bookcases or standing on desks ranging the length of the room, so that a busy, relentless ticking filled the place like thousands of miniscule, marching footsteps.

Which wouldn't have bothered Harry so much were he still completely human. He strongly resisted the urge to put his palms flat to his fuzzy ears as his over-sensitive hearing picked up every movement and tick as though the multitudes of clocks had been crammed in his head. Harry settled for flattening his ears to his head as much as he could and concentrating on something else… The source of the dancing, diamond-bright light. It was a towering crystal bell jar that stood at the far end of the room.

"This way!"

Harry's heart was pumping frantically now that he knew they were on the right track; he led the way down the narrow space between the lines of desks, heading, as he had done in his dream, for the source of the light, the crystal bell jar quite as tall as he was that stood on a desk and appeared to be full of a billowing, glittering wind.

"Oh, _look!_" said Ginny, as they drew nearer, pointing at the very heart of the bell jar. Harry's head throbbed in time with the ticking, but he focused on the bell jar for a moment to try and distract himself from the harsh onslaught on his ears.

Drifting along in the sparkling current inside was a tiny, jewel-bright egg. As it rose in the jar, it cracked open and a humming bird emerged, which was carried to the very top of the jar, but as it fell on the draught its feathers became bedraggled and damp again, and by the time it had been bourne back to the bottom of the jar it had been enclosed once more in it's egg.

"Keep going!" said Harry sharply, because Ginny showed signs of wanting to stop and watch the egg's progress back into a bird. But Harry's ears could take the cacophony of ticking no longer.

"You dawdled enough by that old arch!" she said crossly, but seeing the pained expression on his face she followed him past the bell jar to the only door behind it.

"This is it," Harry said again, and his heart was now pumping so hard and fast he felt it must interfere with his speech, "it's through here-"

He glanced around at them all; they had their wands out and looked suddenly serious and anxious. He looked back at the door and pushed. It swung open.

They were there, they had found the place: high as a church and full of nothing but towering shelves covered in small, dusty, glass orbs. They glimmered dully in the light issuing from more candle-brackets set at intervals along the shelves. Like those in the circular room behind them, their flames were burning blue. The room was very cold, even when Harry compared it to his cell.

He edged forward and peered down one of the shadowy isles between two rows of shelves. Even with his heightened senses he could not hear anything or see the slightest sign of movement, although the glittering light and deafening noise from the previous room were still swimming unnervingly in his head, which didn't help.

"Harry, which row is he supposed to be in?" whispered Hermione.

"Ninety-seven," breathed Harry, looking up at the end of the closest row.

Beneath the branch of blue glowing candles protruding from it glimmered the silver figure fifty-three.

'We need to go right, I think,' whispered Hermione, squinting to the next row. 'Yes… that's fifty-four…'

'Keep your wands ready,' Harry said softly.

They crept forward, glancing behind them as they went on down the long alleys of shelves, the further ends of which were in near total darkness. Tiny, yellowing labels had been stuck beneath each glass orb on the shelves. Some of them had a weird, liquid glow; others were as dull and dark within as blown lightbulbs.

Harry's feet hurt from tensing up the tendons to stop his nails making any sound.

They passed row eighty-four… eighty-five… Harry was listening hard for the slightest sound of movement, but Sirius might be gagged now, or else unconscious… _or, _said an unbidden voice in his head, _he might already be dead…_

I'd have felt it, he told himself, his heart now hammering against his Adam's apple, I'd already know…

'Ninety-seven!' whispered Hermione.

They stood grouped around the end of the row, gazing down the alley beside it. There was nobody there.

'He's right down at the end,' said Harry, whose mouth had become slightly dry. 'You can't see properly from here.'

And he led them between the towering rows of glass balls, some of which glowed softly as they passed…

'He should be near here,' whispered Harry, convinced that every step was going to bring the ragged form of Sirius into view on the darkened floor. 'Anywhere here… really close…'

'Harry?' said Hermione tentatively, but he did not want to respond. His mouth was horribly dry.

'Somewhere about… here…' he said.

They had reached the end of the row and emerged into more dim candlelight. There was nobody there. All was echoing, dusty silence.

'He might be…' Harry whispered hoarsely, peering down the next alley. 'Or maybe…' He hurried to look down the one beyond that.

'Harry?' said Hermione again.

'What?' he snarled.

'I… I don't think Sirius is here.'

Nobody spoke. Harry did not want to look at any of them. He felt sick. He did not understand why Sirius was not here. He had to be here. This was where not only he, but Lorrelli, too, had seen him… They couldn't both of them be wrong…

He ran up the space at the end of the rows, staring down them. Empty aisle after empty aisle flickered past. He ran the other way, back past his staring companions. There was no sign of Sirius anywhere, not even a scent, nor any hint of a struggle.

'Harry?' Ron called.

'What?'

He did not want to hear what Ron had to say; did not want to hear Ron tell him he had been stupid or suggest that they ought to just leave while they had the chance, but the heat was rising in his face and he felt as though he would like to skulk down here in the darkness for a long while before facing the task of escaping through the Atrium and being, as he assumed they had planned, smuggled back to Grimmauld place. Least of all did he wish to face the others' accusing stares… they must believe he'd gone completely mad in that dungeon they had freed him from…

'Have you seen this?' said Ron.

'What?' said Harry, but eagerly this time- it had to be a sign that Sirius had been there, a clue. Proof at least that he hadn't gone mad.

He strode back to where they were all standing, a little way down row ninety-seven, but found nothing except Ron staring at one of the dusty glass spheres on the shelf.

'What?' Harry repeated glumly.

'It's… It's got your name on,' said Ron.

Harry moved a little closer. Ron was pointing at one of the small glass spheres that glowed with a dull inner light, though it was very dusty and appeared not to have been touched for many years.

'My name?' said Harry blankly.

He stepped forwards. Still not as tall as Ron despite the wolven legs, he craned his neck to read the yellowish label affixed to the shelf right beneath the dusty glass ball. In spidery writing was written a date of some sixteen years previously, and below that:

_S.P.T. to A.P.W.B.D._

_Dark Lord_

_And _(?) _Harry Potter_

Harry stared at it.

'What is it?' Ron asked, sounding unnerved. 'What's your name doing down here?'

He glanced along at the other labels on that stretch of shelf.

'I'm not here,' he said, sounding perplexed. 'None of the rest of us are here.'

'Harry, I don't think you should touch it,' said Hermione sharply, as he stretched out his hand.

Harry's ears switched nervously. 'Why not?' he said. 'It's something to do with me, isn't it?'

'Don't, Harry,' said Neville suddenly. Harry looked at him. Neville's round face was shining slightly with sweat. He looked as though he could not take much more suspense.

'It's got my name on,' said Harry, his ears resolutely set back.

And feeling slightly reckless, he closed his furry, clawed fingers around the dusty ball's surface. He had expected it to feel cold, but it did not. On the contrary, it felt as though it had been lying in the sun for hours, as though the glow within was warming it. Expecting, even hoping, that something dramatic was going to happen, something exciting that might make their dangerous detour from saving him worthwhile after all, Harry lifted the glass ball down from it's shelf and stared at it.

Nothing whatsoever happened. The others moved closer around Harry, gazing at the orb as he brushed it free of the clogging dust.

And then, from right behind them, a drawling voice spoke.

'Very good, Potter. Now turn around, nice and slowly, and give that to me.'


End file.
